


Beyond the Ether

by Powerfulweak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, God!dean, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Mythology - Freeform, NSFW, Pagan God Verse, Pagan Gods, Professor!Castiel, Rimming, bottom!Castiel, cw: blood, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-07 00:32:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 52,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1878309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powerfulweak/pseuds/Powerfulweak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mythology fascinated Castiel. On a professional level, of course (a requirement when you teach world religions and philosophy), but very much on a personal one as well. When he accidentally summons an ancient pagan god and protector called Dean, he is thrust deeper into that world then he ever thought possible</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the [Diminuel's](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/tagged/Pagan-Gods-Verse) ([Sillyblue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue)) lovely artwork.
> 
>  
> 
> **Update:[Diminuel](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/) has given me permission to add some images from the Pagan God Dean blog and has additonally created some original sketches for this story. Please enjoy and check out her blog. It is wonderful!**

Mythology fascinated Castiel. On a professional level, of course (a requirement when you teach world religions and philosophy), but very much on a personal one as well. He loved the in-depth structure of it all, from ancient to modern. He loved how the stories and histories crossed borders and changed with the people worshipping. He loved the parallels: how Hammurabi’s Code became the words of Christ, how the Norse Tree of Life is also seen in Hinduism, how a flood filled the Earth from the Americas to the Middle East. To Castiel it proved that this division he sees in people over beliefs and dogmas is not only ridiculous, but also completely unnecessary.

He sat alone in one of the private rooms of the schools library, heart aflutter as he looked over the rare, ancient tome. It was a beautiful book, detailing the history of a long-dead, Pagan faction. The writing was rough and near-undecipherable to all except for Castiel’s practiced eye. He had waited months for this book, hearing stories of its existence for years. He had begged and pleaded with the university president to initiate a transfer, saying it was necessary to his classes. That it is an important artifact.

Castiel had no intention of showing the book to his students. No, they wouldn’t appreciate a piece this rare, this wonderful. Even his dedicated grad students weren’t ready for this. Maybe they never would be.

No, Castiel had wanted this book for himself. He had called in every favor for temporary housing of the tome. Maybe it was selfish, but Castiel knew that this type of selfishness could be forgiven. At least he sincerely hoped so.

He carefully turned the page with gloved fingers and squinted under the dim light so as to preserve the text. He wondered if he could finagle a microfiche conversion, just for his own sake. He made an attempt the read the text, his tongue tripping and stumbling over the words. The characters were similar enough to ancient Celtic that Castiel could manage through the pronunciation, but the sounds seemed to make no sense or have any rhyme or reason. Occasionally, he would catch a word he recognized: “Gods”, “Hunt”, “Brother”, “Awake”, “Gift”.

Castiel worked his way through the page until he came to a drawing. It was a crude sketch of a face, similar to works he seen before. Castiel could only assume it was a man, but he couldn’t be sure. The eyes were hard black, the face square. Markings were etched across the face, what Castiel concluded to be tattoos or ceremonial art. The mouth interested him most, though; unlike most ancient art with stony, blank expressions, this face appeared to be smirking.

Castiel smiled back at the face unconsciously before turning the page and continuing to read out loud, attempting to recognize the words.

“Call”

“Invoke”

“Vow”

“Dean” Dean? Castiel grimaced. He read it aloud again, thinking he may have mispronounced something.

“Dean” Cas sounded it out, “No, that’s right.” He rubbed his brow in confusion and looked up to see a man sitting on the table in front of him.

Castiel yelled in surprise. Kicking his chair out and stumbling towards the wall. The man was sat cross legged on top of the table, just before the book. Large, broad shoulders slouched over as he eyed the book. He was wearing thick furs over his body, a collar of soft, cream fur surrounding his neck. From his ears dangled two tarnished, gold discs. He reached out and Castiel caught a glimpse of tattooed markings and lines surrounding his fingers. He gingerly plucked at the page of the book and turned back to the last page with the drawing. He tilted his head to the side and made a displeased noise.

“That doesn’t look anything like me,” the man said, “Do you not agree?” His voice was deep and evocative. He spoke English, but it was slightly stilted, as if it wasn’t his mother-tongue. He looked at Castiel and gave a small smile.

His eyes. They were black as onyx with a glimmering center of emerald green. Castiel began to scream when the man suddenly made a quick movement of his hand. His voice seemed instantly pulled from his throat. Castiel silently gaped as the man continued to look at the book.

“Why did you summon me?” He asked, not looking up from the page. Castiel’s mouth hung open, unable to make a sound.

“What are you called?” The man glanced up again, black eyes seeming to bore through him. He flicked his wrist again. A choked noise rose through Castiel’s throat.

“Please don’t scream again, it is very vexing,” He commanded gently. Castiel nodded reflexively.  The man slipped off the table and stood upright. He was large, taller than Castiel by a few inches. Cas swallowed hard as he looked to the man wide-eyed. Who was this person?

“What are you called?” The man asked again, this time more harshly.

“Ca-Cas-Cast-” Castiel stuttered.

“Cas.” The man said firmly, nodding in approval, “Cas. A good, strong name. A hunter’s name.” Cas rose from his spot on the floor and walked slowly toward the table.

“Who-who are you,” he mumbled, not taking his eyes off the man.

“I am Dean,” He announced confidently.

“Dean,” Cas repeated, “Who is Dean?” The man, Dean, furrows his brow.

“I am,” He answered, confused by Castiel’s question, “I am the protector of the hunt and family.” Castiel’s inhaled deeply, the words suddenly familiar.  
“You summoned me,” Dean stated.

“What?” Castiel gasped out.

“You spoke the words and you summoned me.” Dean continued. Cas approached the tome, the picture in the book staring back at him. He looked from the picture to Dean and back. The markings between the two, even the quirk of the mouth, were identical.

“Jesus Christ,” Cas breathed.

“No, I am Dean,” Dean repeated.

_Art by[Diminuel](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/) , used with permission_


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel has an ancient pagan god in his apartment.

This wasn’t how he’d expected his day to go.

The god, Dean, sits at Castiel’s dining room table, eyes scanning the mostly-bare walls of his apartment.

“This is your home,” it’s a statement, but Dean seems to phrase it like a question seeking confirmation.

“Um… yes,” Castiel says, emerging from his bedroom, glad to be out of his dress shirt and tie.

“It is small,” Dean remarks. Castiel snorts.

“No shit,” he mumbles sarcastically. Dean’s gaze falls on him. His eyes are still disarming, but Castiel is better able to notice other aspects of the man’s, this god’s, features: High cheekbones, strong jaw, thick, sensuous lips perpetually quirked into a smirk. He is stunning. Castiel can’t help but smile at the sight. A god is in his apartment, but more importantly, a gorgeous man is in his apartment.

“Are you a hunter?” Dean asks suddenly.

“No,” Castiel answers quietly.

“What do you do?” 

“I’m a professor… uh, I teach,” He walks into his small, open kitchenette and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge.

“A learned man,” Dean responds, nodding, “My brother is protector of learned men. You would be under his charge.” A small, proud smile crosses his face and Castiel finds himself smiling in response.

“You have a brother?” He asks.

“Yes, Sam. Samael” Dean clarifies , “Tell me, where is my offering?”

“Offering?” Castiel repeats, confused.

“When I am summoned, I am presented with an offering as a gift,” Dean clarifies, standing from the table and moving toward Castiel. Castiel is familiar with the concept, but he is unclear as to what type of offering Dean would require.

“Like a human sacrifice?” He asks hesitantly. Dean grimaces at the word.

“I am not a barbarian,” he answers. Castiel bites at his lip, embarrassed to have brought it up.

“I don’t … um, if you want gold or something like that, I don’t really have anything,” he babbles, “I have this watch that’s pretty nice-”

“I require nothing so opulent,” Dean cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“What kind of gift?” Castiel asks after a moment.

“A Deer, a goat,” he lists, “Perhaps a rabbit, if the hunt is poor.” Dean shrugs slightly. Castiel grimaces and runs a hand through his too-long hair.

“I don’t have any live animals,” Castiel says, opening his freezer door, “I think I may have some ground beef in here or maybe-”

“What is this?” Castiel glances around the door to see Dean staring at something on his counter.

“Uh, it’s a pie,” Castiel mumbles.

“That shall do,” Dean announces, picking up the dessert and carrying it back to the dining table.

“Oookay,” Castiel replies. Dean glares at the packaging, furrowing his brow and poking at the cover.

“What strange glass,” he murmurs, “It bends but does not break.” Castiel hurries over to the table.

“Sorry, it’s plastic,” Castiel says, removing the cover, “Don’t eat the pie plate.” He glances at Dean who shoots him a cold look.

“Do not speak me me like I am an idiot,” he bites. Castiel swallows hard as Dean turns his attention back to the pie. He sinks his whole hand into the tender flesh of the crust, scooping up a palm-full of the gooey filling and bringing it to his open mouth. Dean groans happily as he eats, letting his head fall back in delight.

“This is very good.” he says gleefully, grabbing another handful, “I am very pleased.” The bright red cherry filling is smeared across his face and coats his hands. The scene would look almost horrific if not for the flake of crust at the corner of Dean’s mouth. Castiel is fascinated, watching Dean eat. Really, it should be disgusting, watching this large man attack a pie this way, but Castiel is much too focused on Dean’s fingers and how he sucks the sticky glaze off of each digit.

Dean notices him staring, the emerald center of his dark eyes glowing with playful energy. The is a smattering of freckles beneath the marks across the bridge of his nose and they seem to grow darker as a flush rises to Dean’s face. Castiel looks away and clears his throat.

“So, um, How do I… Un-summon you?” Castiel asks, sitting down opposite Dean. Dean gives a questioning hum, his mouth still very full of pie.

“I mean, how do I send you back?” Castiel asks seriously. Dean snorts as he lick a glob of glaze off of his thumb.

“Do you really believe you have the power to send me away?” He asks incredulously. Castiel sits back in his chair, confused.

“I… I  _summoned_  you,” Castiel states plainly.

“Yes, you did. But you did not capture me. You did not trap or bind me. I am here of my own will,” He grins impishly and licks his lips, “And I shall leave of my will, as well.” Castiel sits in stunned silence. Not only did he summon a god, but a sly, stubborn one at that.

“Besides, when I leave, you shall be coming with me as my lover,” Dean announces casually.

“What? No!” Castiel squawks.

“You are attracted to me, that is clear. It is alright, I am attracted to you as well. I have had lovers both men and women before. I look forward to having you.” Dean stands and shakes off the fur cloak from his broad shoulders. Beneath it he wears a pale green tunic, detailed with a gold collar. Castiel stares at him, trying to wrap his head around what Dean just said. Did the ancient pagan god just imply that Castiel was hot?

“Um, thank you, I guess,” Castiel starts, “I’m very flattered, but I can’t leave. I have a job.” He emphasizes the word ‘job’. Dean narrows his eyes, confusion crossing his features.

“You would not rather be the consort of a god?” He asks with a hint of disbelief. Castiel sighs heavily.

“You’re not understanding. Look, I know in your… world” He gestures widely at this, “It’s all fine and dandy to kidnap and take people against their will-”

“I did not say I would take you against you will,” Dean’s expression is slightly sad at the idea.

“What?” Castiel is beginning to feel like a broken record. Dean moves a step closer to him.

“When you come with me to my realm,” he says, taking Castiel’s hand in his,”It will have been because I have wooed you.” Dean’s smile is warm and somehow his dark eyes seem to glow from within. “I am very good at wooing.” Castiel looks away shyly.

“uh… how do you expect to do that?” Castiel asks, trying to appear aloof.

“In small ways,” Dean answers. He lets go of Castiel’s hand. Turning his head, he breathes into his palm, a steady stream of fire escaping from his lips. When he is finished, he closes his fist, placing it over Castiel’s open hand and dropping something into it.

“For you,” Dean says, winking at him. Castiel opens his hand to reveal a clear stone, swirling with life. ripples of blue and green twirl through the orb, dancing around each other. Castiel eyes widen in amazed wonder.

“Incredible” he whispers. He looks up to see Dean taking his seat at the table, intent on finishing his pie. A slow grin curls at the corner of Castiel’s mouth before realization dawns on him.

If this is how Dean woos, Castiel is already gone.

Art by [Dimiuel](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/), used with permission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://powerfulweak.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m telling you, Balthazar, you just need to get here.” Castiel hisses into the phone. He casts a glance toward his living room, where Dean sits, examining the TV remote.

“Castiel, there is literally nothing on on Earth that could get me out of bed at 7 am on a Saturday morning,” Balthazar yawns loudly into the phone, “Especially when I have a former Miss November  _and_  Miss April in my bed.” Castiel rubs his temples. Balthazar was another one of the world religion professors, and a brilliant one at that. However his knowledge of lesser known sects and theologies was tempered only by his laziness.

“Please,” Castiel begs, “I’ll grade your essays for a month,”

“I have TA for that,” He replies. Castiel sighs. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dean jump in surprise as the TV comes to life and has to stifle a laugh at the man’s (god’s?) expense.

“What if I take over your Monday morning classes?” There is silence at the end of the line. Castiel knows he’s got him.

“For how long?” Balthazar asks. There is a noticeable sound of shuffling movement on the line.

“A month,” Castiel says flatly.

“A semester,” he counters. Castiel scoffs.

“Six weeks.” he offers, “And you can borrow my grad student, the one that always brings coffee. You will  _not_  regret this.” He glances at Dean, who seems taken with whatever he is watching. Balthazar hums at the end of line.

“That’s what you said about Dr. Himmler’s lecture series on dissecting biblical genealogy,” Castiel wants to interject, but Balthazar sighs into the phone, “I’ll be there in a few, Castiel, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Castiel smiles as he hangs up the phones. Dean is concentrated on the TV. His gaze follows the Weather Channel anchor as his arms sweep across the map of the Eastern Seaboard. Dean’s eyes widen as the graphic changes zooms into the landscape, demonstrating the storm front moving in. Castiel walks back into the living room and plops back onto the couch next to Dean. He can’t help but smile. He may be a an ancient deity, but Dean’s fascination is charming.   
Castiel had been unsure as to what to do with Dean last night. There was no way he would have left him at the library and Dean seemed unclear on how or when he was to return to his own world. He had brought Dean back to his apartment on a spur of the moment decision and set him up on the couch to sleep that night, only to be informed that Dean would stand guard and watch over the one he was wooing and his home. Castiel had been too tired to argue and had gone to bed. He woke up in the morning to find Dean in the same position on the sofa he had been the night before, back straight and vigilant. Castiel found that he was both flattered and a bit annoyed by the effort. He was a grown man with a baseball bat by his bedside, he could protect his own home.

 

“This is wonderful magic you have,” Dean murmurs, glancing at Castiel.

“It’s not magic, it’s…” He is at a loss as to how to describe modern technology. Alchemy, maybe? No. “You know what… you’re right, it’s magic.” Dean nods appreciatively. He stands and walks toward the patio door of Castiel’s apartment.

“Your realm is very changed since I was last here.” he says offhandedly, scanning the surrounding area.

“How long has it been since you were here?” Castiel asks. It’s still difficult for Castiel to gauge Dean’s emotions, his dark eyes seem to mask all but the most blatant moods, but Dean seems saddened by the question. Something pulls at the corners of his mouth and looks away from the horizon.

“A millenia, maybe more,” Dean finally answers, “I have not heard my name called from beyond the ether in so very long. It is strange to be called after, prayed for, worshipped and then, slowly, not.” He raises head and looks at Castiel, taking his hand.

“Until you, Cas,” Dean murmurs, softly kissing the top of his knuckles. Castiel warms at the attention, but a disquieting thought crosses his mind.

“Dean,” Castiel starts slowly, “Am I… Are you, um, “wooing” me… out of convenience?” Dean’s brow furrows at the question.

“I do not understand.” He says.

“I mean, you just said that you haven’t been on, well, this side of the looking glass, so to speak…”

“Looking glass? I do not-”

“What I mean is,” Castiel sighs heavily, “I’m the first person you came across. You could’ve just easily met the next clueless theologist or linguist. Would you have asked the same thing of them?” Dean tilts his head and considers Castiel. He smiles ruefully.

“Cas, in my realm I am not alone.” He moves in closer, refusing to break eye contact. The mossy center glimmering in the morning sun, “There are other gods like myself, demi-gods, creatures of all sorts. You are the first mortal I have come across in many years, yes, but I am not so frivolous that I would have given my affections wantonly to such a person.” He lays a warm palm on the side of Castiel’s neck. He finds himself leaning into the touch unconsciously.

“Within my realm, I have opportunity,” Dean continues, “I do not often take it, but I do have it. I would like very much to… have an opportunity with you.” He leans in and presses his lips to Castiel’s. For the first time, Castiel is conscious of the heat of Dean’s body. He is unusually warm and Castiel wants to swallowed up into that warmth. He sighs as he presses into the kiss, Dean’s tongue slipping past the barrier of his lips and into his mouth. Castiel can feel Dean’s other hand coming up around the other side of his neck and cradling his head tenderly. He finds himself at a loss, his hands flexing helplessly before they clutch at the thin material of Dean’s tunic.

Castiel breaks from the kiss, breathless, and presses his forehead to Dean’s. His mind races, the consequences of what he’s done flying through it, when there is a heavy knock at the door.

“I need to get that,” Castiel whispers, breaking away from Dean’s grasp. He walks down the hall leaving the deity standing in the living room.

He opens the door to a very dishevelled Balthazar. He leans against the threshold, aviators perched precariously on his nose. His v-neck looks like he slept in it (which is may be true) and his short blonde hair is skewed in a dozen different directions.

“Alright, I’m here,” he sighs, “Now what is so bloody important that you had to pull me out of bed.” Castiel steps aside as Balthazar saunters into the hallway.

“You look hungover as shit,” Castiel says flatly. Balthazar snorts.

“Lovely to see you, too, Castiel.” He replies. Castiel drops a hand to his shoulder, stopping him from moving forward.

“Before you go any further, I need to explain something,” Castiel says. Balthazar eyes him over the top of his sunglasses, “You remember the book I had the school track down?”

“Yes, some long lost tome or something, right?”

“Yeah, well, last night I was in the library and I was reading, well attempting to read it. The language isn’t very clear and the sounds all come out like gibberish, but…”

“Castiel is there a  _point_  to this story?” Balthazar interrupts with a yawn.

“I’m getting there,” Castiel continues, “I was reading it, I guess I recited some sort of invocation and…” Castiel leads him into the living room where Dean is standing too close to the TV.

“I kind of summoned an ancient pagan god.” Castiel admits, a bit embarrassed. Balthazar stands there silently staring at Dean. He removes his sunglasses and cleans them with the hem of his shirt before before slowly turning his gaze to Castiel.

“You owe me an entire  _semester_  of your coffee-bearing grad student for this ridiculous bullshit,” Balthazar states coldly, before turning back to the front door, “Honestly, Castiel, you tore me away from my bedmates for a bloody prank?! I should thump you for this.” Castiel rushes after him, grabbing his arm to keep him from leaving.

“Wait! You’ve got to see this!” He insists, dragging him back. Dean is standing straighter and watching the interaction. Balthazar turns to face Dean, examining him closely.

“Yes, it’s a wonderful costume, very authentic,” Balthazar murmurs as he takes a piece of Dean’s furs between his fingers, “Oh, and look at that, contacts too. What are those? Black Scleras?” Balthazar grins condescendingly.

“I do not understand,” Dean says coolly, his brow knit in confusion.

“Oh, and he’s an actor too, Castiel. Well done!” Balthazar turns to his friend, “A for effort, dear, but you have to work a little bit harder to put one past me.” He clasps Castiel’s shoulders, rubbing them affectionately.

“Now, I am going back to my-What the HELL!!” Balthazar is suddenly and forcefully slammed against the wall, held off the ground at least three feet by by nothing  at all. He claws at his neck, gasping and coughing. Castiel yelps in surprise and turns to see Dean holding a hand out stiffly in front of himself, fingers clenching in the air.

“Do not touch what is mine!” Dean barks.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Castiel yells, holding out his hands in a placating gesture, “What the hell, Dean?!” Dean turns his attention to Castiel, his dark eyes fierce and concerned.

“You are mine. He touched you and you are-”

“No, no, no,” Castiel shakes his head, “This possessive shit does not fly with me!”

“But…” Dean’s shoulders unclench and his expression is completely perplexed, “But I am wooing you.” Castiel nods at him, placing a hand softly on his extended arm.

“Yeah, we’re getting to know each other,” Castiel says calmly, “We’ve only just met and we still have a whole bunch more to learn. But if you’re going to start with the ‘Mine, Mine, Mine’ bullshit right away, I can tell you right now, this relationship will not work,” Dean lets Castiel press his arm back down to his side. His expression is blank, but his whole body seems to sag with sadness.

“I like you Dean, but you see what I mean, right?” Dean is silent for a second as he considers this.

“Of course, Cas, I understand.,” His posture straightens as he regains his composure. “Please forgive me for my abhorrent behaviour” He bows slightly then takes Castiel’s hand and bringing his knuckles to his lips. Castiel smiles and twists his hand so that Dean’s fingers are clasped in his.

“Um, a little… help,” Balthazar gasps from his spot on the wall. Dean looks up, remembering the other man. With a flick of his hand, Balthazar falls to the ground with a huff. Castiel rushes over to help him up

“Dear lord,” He mutters, dumbfounded. Castiel nods slowly.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“How did you say you got him here? You summoned him?” Balthazar asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, I was just trying to read the book and-”

“What did it say?” Balthazar interrupts, grabbing Castiel’s shoulders tightly. It only takes a brief sidelong glance from Dean’s dark eyes for him to let go instantly.

“I don’t really know. I was reading it, but only about every fifth word made any sort of sense.” Castiel sighs deeply and run a hand through his unbrushed hair, “I was hoping you might be able to help.” Balthazar bites at the inside of his cheek.

“What was the root?” Balthazar asks seriously.

“Proto Celtic. Some Leptonic, traces Galatian and Noric, but most of it was just lost on me.” Castiel shrugs and leans against the wall.

“You know I have no ear for languages, Castiel” Balthazar insists.

“Yeah, but I thought maybe you’d heard of Dean before,” Castiel is growing frustrated. Balthazar was a better theologian and and more astute historian when it came to these matters. If he didn’t know, Castiel didn’t really have anywhere else to turn.

“I won’t be of any help without a full translation, and you say you can’t read the manuscript.”

“I can read the book,” Balthazar and Castiel both turn to Dean, who has been silent.

“You can read?” Balthazar is incredulous. Dean’s dark eyes narrow.

“Of course I can,” Dean hisses, “My brother is the protector of learned men. I would not have heard the end of it otherwise.” Dean smirks and shakes his head wistfully.

“Brother?” Balthazar grimaces in confusion. Castiel approaches Dean.

“Would you be willing to read the book for me?” Castiel asks, catching Dean’s eyes. Dean smiles warmly at him.

“Of course, Cas,” he says, taking both of his hands and kissing the top of them lightly, “Anything for you.” Castiel can’t help the sweet smile on his face. He only notices Balthazar puzzled expression when the other man coughs to get their attention. Castiel collects himself and levels a stare at his friend.

“We’re taking your car.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://powerfulweak.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

_Art by[Dimiuel](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/), used with permission_

 

“Honestly, Castiel, couldn’t you have found him some pants or a jacket?” Balthazar gripes as they stride across the quad.

“Balthazar, why don’t you try telling the ancient deity who can telekinetically throw you around like a ragdoll how to dress?” Castiel answers sarcastically. Balthazar groans and rolls his eyes.

“He’s a bit conspicuous, though, don’t you think?”

“It’s a college campus,” Castiel says, “Do you really believe anyone will look twice at a barefoot weirdo in a fur coat?” Balthazar bobs his head in reluctant agreement.

“Good point,” he mumbles.

“Why must I wear these?” Dean asks, fiddling with the sunglasses on his face. Castiel grimaces sympathetically.

“It’s just because your eye are a bit, um….”

“They’re horrifying,” Balthazar interjects. Castiel looks at him pointedly.

“I was trying to be gentle about it,” he hisses. Balthazar shrugs.

“Might as well be honest with him,” he says.

“Do you really find me frightening?” Dean asks with a worried frown. Castiel stops walking and turns to Dean, staring into his own reflection in the sunglasses.

“No, no I don’t, but… other people might,” Castiel clarifies.

“Why?” Dean raises an eyebrow.

“It’s because your eyes are... they’re very different-”

“All creatures’ eyes are different,” Dean counters, “Have you ever seen a cat’s eyes? Or a snake’s?”

“Yes, well, we mortals expect humans to have normal eyes,” Castiel draws a circle around his own face with a finger, “Like mine.”

“Your eyes are far from normal, Cas,” Dean says with warm affection. He grazes a finger over Castiel’s cheek, “They are the brightest blue of the deepest ocean.”

“Good Lord, he’s like a walking Nicholas Spark’s book,” Balthazar groans.

“Shut it, Balthazar,” Castiel says out of the corner of his mouth, not looking away from Dean. He can feel his face warming. He doesn’t know what it is about Dean that has him acting like a schoolgirl, but he needs to get it under control.

The trio continue on to the massive library. The quiet vacuum of the lobby seems to swallow any sound. Castiel leads them over to the reference desk. He taps the bell on the counter with a ‘ding’ to get the clerk’s attention. Dean eyes the bell, reaching out and tapping it himself.

‘ding’

His eyes go wide and he taps it again.

‘ding’,‘ding’,‘ding’,‘ding’,‘ding’,‘ding’,‘ding’,‘ding’,‘ding’

Castiel grabs his hand.

“That’s… That’s good, Dean,” he whispers. A smartly-dressed woman with thick, auburn hair approaches the counter.

“Hello, Jane,” Castiel says politely.

“Hey, Castiel,” She smiles. When she sees Balthazar, her face drops, “Hi, Asshole,” She turns back to Castiel, politely smiling again, “I’m guessing you want the book?”

“Of course,” Castiel answer. Jane tells them to wait as she goes in the back. Castiel glares at Balthazar.

“What did you do to Jane?” He asks in a harsh whisper.

“Nothing” Balthazar says with mock innocence, “Nothing…she didn’t enjoy at the time.” Castiel slaps a hand over his face.

“For the love of God,” Castiel quietly exclaims, “We only have a couple of rules here: Do not  abuse the TAs and do not fuck with the librarians!”

“She’s just a clerk, it’ll be alright.” Balthazar says dismissively. Castiel shakes his head.

“I cannot believe that you have tenure,” he sighs.

“I know, it’s like some wonderful, twisted joke,” Balthazar replies gleefully.

“What is ‘tenure’?” Dean asks.

“It means he can’t be fired,” Castiel notices Dean perplexed expression, “It means he can’t lose his job… Nothing he does here can hurt him,”

“Ahh,” Dean nods, understanding, “So you are like a demi god amongst these learned men.” Balthazar smiles widely.

“Please don’t encourage him,” Castiel mutters.

“Yes, I do like the sound of that,” Balthazar says before bursting out in laughter. Castiel shoots Dean a withering look. Jane suddenly enters, carrying a set of keys and handing Castiel a clipboard.

“Alright, here you go,” She says, “You know the rules: gloves, low lights, handle with care.” Castiel signs his name quickly and hands the clipboard back to her.

“Have fun,” she calls as Balthazar leads Dean out the door to the study room, Castiel following close behind

“Will do,” Castiel replies. “Thanks, Jane.”

“By the way, who’s your friend?” Castiel turns back. Jane is smiling coyly at him, “Not the asshole. The cute one.” Castiel looks to the door, realizing she’s talking about Dean. A spark of jealousy fires in his brain unexpectedly.

“Ah, yeah,” Castiel smirks  and looks back at Jane, “He’s mine.” Jane makes an impressed little noise and nods.

“Way to go, Professor Shurley,” Castiel chuckles and hurries out the door after Balthazar and Dean.

***

Castiel opens the archive case and removes the book, laying it gently on the table. It is hand-bound and heavy with delicate vellum pages. Balthazar hands Dean a pair of cotton gloves.

“What are these?” He asks as he removes the sunglasses.

“They protect the books,” Balthazar answers, “put them on.” Dean does as he is told, slipping them over his tattoo-covered hands.

“Dean,” Castiel gets his attention. He approaches the books as Castiel steps back. Dean carefully turns the page, eyes scanning over the cryptic text. His brows furrow and relax as he takes in the information.

“What is it?” Balthazar asks.

“A history,” Dean says, “Of the tribes under our watch.” He turns to the next page, reading carefully.

“What does it say, Dean?” Castiel asks, leaning in. Dean’s warmth radiates through him. This close, Castiel can take in Dean’s scent. He doesn’t smell like other men, scents so layered with soaps and chemicals that they all seem to smell the same; He smells real. Dean’s scent is earthy but clean, like fresh soil or river water. Castiel hears Balthazar cough, and glances up to see him giving Castiel a curious look. Dean shakes his head absently.

“It is of no import. Just family titles, unions, births.” He turns the page and stops. A crude drawing of a face stares back at him. It’s just a rough sketch, something fitting of the era. It’s difficult for Castiel to determine, but it appears to be the face of a woman. Dean brushes a finger over the light hair of the drawing, the affection evident. Castiel wonders if this is perhaps a lost lover of Dean’s.

“Who is that?” Balthazar ask, peering over the opposite side of the table. Dean blinks a few times, opening his mouth as if about to speak and then saying nothing. Castiel glances at him.

“Dean?” Castiel says quietly, concern lacing his voice.

“It is my mother,” Dean finally says. Both Castiel and Balthazar straighten. Dean points to the text on the opposite page, “This is my history. My Family’s history.” Dean lowers himself into a chair and continues reading.  Castiel pulls a chair next to him a sits down, watching him read.

“I think I am going to find a coffee and try to make nice with Jane,” Balthazar says awkwardly. Neither Dean nor Castiel look up, Castiel only offering a wave of his hand in response.

He glances at Dean out of his peripheral vision. Dean’s face is somber, the brightness of his eyes dulled. He inhales sharply, something he reads disturbing him.

“What does it say, Dean?” Castiel asks hesitantly. Dean turns his head to Castiel and smiles sadly.

“My father… He was a god, as I am. Old as time.” Dean starts, focusing back on the text.

“Was he… Is he a protector like you?” Dean gives a small shake of the head.

“No.” He answers flatly. Castiel wants him to ask him more, but Dean continues his story, “My father fell in love with a mortal woman. My mother, Myrae. She was a huntress…and a druis. My father loved her dearly and she in turn bore him two sons.”

“You and your brother,” Castiel supplies. Dean nods.

“For a short while, they were happy.” Dean smiles at the drawing, “But the villagers grew fearful of my mother and of her influence on my father. So they set about a  plan.”

“What did they do?” Castiel unconsciously moves closer. Dean swallows hard.

“They set our home on fire while we were asleep inside” Dean murmurs, “My mother screamed for help, but the villagers had warded the house so that all my mother’s cries fell on deaf ears, even to my father.” Dean seemed to curl in on himself, his large frame hunched over the book. Castiel reaches out and takes Dean’s gloved hand, entwining the fingers together.

“It was only when Sam and I awoke and began to cry that my father heard  and came to us. Our mother was gone, burnt through by the fire. Sam and I, we were burning, screaming for help. He got us out of our home, but we were dying, our mortality was burning within us,”

“You were mortal once?” Castiel’s eyes go wide is suprise.

“Yes, but in order to save us, father had to pull our mortality away.” Dean turns the page with his free hand

“And you became a god.” Castiel says. Dean smiles for the first time.

“Eventually, yes.” His face falls again as he reads, “My father carried us to his realm and then returned to the village. He slaughtered them all.” Dean’s jaw clenches tightly, “And then he saw that, no matter his actions, pain follows him. Myrae would have stayed safe if not for his love. He would always bring destruction because that is his lot, his curse.”

“He is Destruction,” Castiel recognizes the common theme in mythology and folklore: Kali, Set, Eris. A deity responsible to chaos, ruin, change. They bring about wars with the smallest actions and have a butterfly-effect that can raze empires. Even the biblical devil himself fits this bill. They are necessary, for without them there would be no creation, only stasis. Dean goes still, not moving the pages. He lets go of Castiel’s hand.

“I haven’t seen my father since,” He says, closing the book with far less carefully than he should.

“He’s dead?” Castiel asks, sitting up straight.

“No, he’s very much alive, somewhere between realms,” Dean says, an unmistakable air of relief surrounding him, “As long as there is pain and strife, he lives.” Dean stares at the book. Guilt seeps through Castiel. It was wrong to bring Dean here, dredge up memories that he didn’t need to face.   
“Dean?” Castiel leans in close. Dean raises his head and looks at him. The green center of his eyes widening. Castiel tentatively moves in, resting his forehead against Dean’s temple.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel whispers. “Your family clearly means a lot to you.” Dean twists toward him, his lips hover close to Castiel’s. His loamy scent envelops him and a warm puff of Dean’s breath drifts over his cheek.

“Guys! Castiel! You need to come here quick!” Leave it to Balthazar to ruin the moment. Castiel and Dean break apart quickly as he runs into the study room.

“Balthazar, keep your voice down,” Castiel chastise, “It’s a damn library!”

“Really, Castiel, that should be the last of your worries right now,” Balthazar says frantically, “You need to see this.”

“What’s going on?” Castiel and Dean stand at the same time. Balthazar shakes his head.

“You just… You need to follow me.” He disappears from the doorway. Dean and Castiel follow close behind, entering into the main hall of the library and weaving through the stacks. Balthazar stops suddenly and points down an aisle. Castiel stares dumbstruck.

At the end of the row stands a large man draped in furs. His long dark hair lays across his shoulder in a loose braid. His eyes are, though, are the most alarming: onyx black with golden brown centers. Before Castiel can say anything, Dean steps forward.

“Sam?”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The names within Dean's realm are going to be somewhat anachronistic since I am working with already existing characters. Also, The name "Hobb" is a reference to a character Neil Gaiman's "Sandman" series.

“Sam?” Dean steps toward his brother, breaking away from Castiel, “What are you doing in this realm? How did you find me?”

“You are my brother, I can always find you.” Sam answers. He smirks at Dean and, for a moment, Castiel can catch a resemblance between the two. It only lasts for a moment though; Sam is a head taller than Dean and, while Dean is a broad man himself, he is dwarfed by his brother.

“Did he say his brother?” Balthazar squawks. Castiel shushes him.

“Why are you here?” Dean asks again. His voice is cold and clipped, as if Dean is more peeved by Sam’s presence that actually angry. Sam moves forward, quick strides on long legs.

“You must return to the realm,” he answers, “It is your daughter.” Castiel eyebrows shoot up in confusion.

“Daughter? You have a kid?” Dean gives Castiel a pleading look. His mouth hangs open like he’s about to give an explanation when Sam continues talking.

“There has been an insurgency. She has collected an army out of her realm and is going after ours.” Dean’s face turns to stone and he exhales heavily, “Hobb has rallied some support, but you are the only one who can stop her.” Dean looks away and drags a hand over his face.

“We must go,” he says, grabbing Sam’s shoulder and pulling him down the row.

“Wait!” Castiel calls out, following close behind, “What’s going on?” The sudden change in Dean’s demeanor from passive to thunderous is alarming.

“Emma is trying to take over our realm. We must stop her.” Dean answers, turning his head enough to catch Castiel’s eye. Castiel & Balthazar jog after the two as they empty out into the main aisle. Castiel grips onto one of Dean’s furs, spinning him around to face him.

“You’re leaving?” Castiel says incredulously. He doesn’t mean to sound as nagging as he does. He feels sort of ridiculous to be feeling some type abandonment by a someone that he has known barely a day, but Dean is different. There has been a connection between them that goes far deeper than a stolen kiss or two, and now he’s wants to leave at a moment’s notice. Dean’s face softens. He drops Sam’s arm and cups Castiel’s face in his palm.

“I am sorry, Cas. My realm is facing a war, I must return. I-” he hesitates for a moment, his thumb brushing over the chapped pink surface of Castiel’s lips. His eyes brighten all at once.

“Come with me!” Dean says excitedly. Castiel takes a step back.

“What?” he takes Dean’s wrists, pulling his hands away from his face, “Come with you?”

“Yes, come to my realm,” Dean repeats, “You will see so much and meet everyone there. I can continue wooing you-”

“Wooing? What does he mean wooing, Castiel?” Balthazar blurts out. A loud shush comes from down the row, interrupting all talk. All four men turn to see an older woman, her hair pulled back into an intensely tight bun, holding a finger to her lips.

“Gentleman,” she chastises harshly, “You are in a library! If you continue to make noise, I will have to ask-!” She is instantly cut off as Dean and Sam glare at her with cold, black eyes. Balthazar and Castiel mumble apologies like contrite children as she slinks away. Sam’s attention once again turns to Dean, lowering his gaze at his brother.

“You are not serious? You are wooing a mortal?” Sam says in a harsh whisper “Dean, you cannot just bring your bedmate back for an idle romp.” Castiel steps back, a little offended at the implication. Dean seems to sense his mood and takes Castiel’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Cas is more than that, Sam,” Dean says, taking a step into Sam’s space. He glances at Castiel out of the corner of his eye “Say you’ll come with me.” he pleads.

“I… I don’t know Dean.” Castiel rubs at his temples, “Can I…Can I think about it?” Dean frowns heavily.

“Cas, I do not have much time. I need to leave now before the situation worsens.” Castiel swallows hard.

“I can’t just leave, Dean,” Castiel insists, “I have a job and a life and-”  
“You can return at anytime,” Dean answers hurriedly, “I will ensure that you return safely, you have my word. But if I leave, I do not have a pathway back.” Castiel’s face drops.

“What do you mean?” He asks, “I brought you here.”

“I know, and will explain fully when there is time,” Dean looks at Castiel with panicked eyes, “Please trust me. I do not want to lose you, Cas.” Castiel mouth drops open absently, but no words come out. He knows this is too soon. This strange man ( _not man… god_ ) is asking him to run away and every practical thought in his body is telling him not to do this. He looks into Dean’s eyes, the emerald green center glowing. Something seems to want to pull him closer, some deep-seated need to keep Dean now that Castiel has found him.

“Alright,” He says quietly. Dean smiles in relief.

“Dean,” Sam interjects, “I cannot condone this. There hasn’t been a mortal within our realm in many centuries and now is not the time to frivolously take another lover.”

“This is not frivolous, Sam,” Dean snaps at his brother,

“Castiel, are you sleeping with the god?” Balthazar looks completely baffled by the entire situation. Castiel grabs him by the arm and pulls him to the side.

“Firstly, can you keep your damn voice down.” he hisses, “Secondly, no… Not yet.”

“But eventually, right?” Balthazar asks, skeptically. He rolls his eyes and brings a palm to his brow. “ I cannot believe you gave me shit for schtupping the librarian.”

“It’s not like that,” Castiel insists, “It’s…um, well, I don’t know what it is.” Balthazar stares at him dumbfounded.

“You’re actually considering this,” Balthazar says in disbelief, “You are seriously thinking of following a supernatural being who you know absolutely nothing about into another dimension. I can barely believe I just said that sentence.” Castiel huffs and scrubs a hand through his hair.

“Alright,” he says slowly, trying another tactic “Think of it from a professional level: I have spent my entire life studying mythology and theology. I have chance to study previously unknown  folklore _first-hand_. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity” Castiel smiles widely and nods vigorously.

“But that’s not why you are doing it, is it?” Balthazar snears, “No, you’ve been glamoured by an attractive face and a pair of somewhat-terrifying, yet pretty, green eyes.” Castiel looks away from his friend. He’s right, of course; Castiel’s professional interest is completely overshadowed by his romantic interest in Dean. He can hear the two gods arguing softly a few feet away; They have both dropped into an unknown language; Castiel can barely pick out a word of it.

Dean looks at Castiel and smiles. Sam stares at his brother, shaking his head in acquiescence.

“Cas, are you ready?” Dean reaches out a hand. He nods quickly.

“Castiel, what should I tell everyone?” Balthazar calls out. Castiel looks at him and then holds a up a finger, asking Dean for a moment. He fishes into his pockets and pulls out the key to the archive room.

“Just say there was a family emergency with my sister, “ He says, handing Balthazar the key, “Make sure to return this to Jane, will you?” Balthazar’s shoulders slump.

“I hope you know what you are doing, Castiel,” He says sadly, “Truly, I do.” Castiel pulls him into a tight, one-armed hug and whispers a ‘thank you’. He turns back to Dean, gripping his hand tightly.

“I’m ready,” he says. Dean beams and pulls Castiel’s fist to his lips for a kiss. Sam gives Castiel a polite smile and nods his head.

“Hello,” he says quietly, “This may be a bit… unnerving.” He throws his fur cloak to the side and pulls a small pouch off of his belt. Opening it, he pours the contents, which seem to be a mixture of herbs, soot and soil onto the library floor. Sam crouches down, forming the mixture into a circular pattern that Castiel doesn’t quite recognize.

Sam leans toward the pattern and snaps his fingers. A flame bounces on his finger tips. A ring of fire quickly encircles it.

“Step inside,” Dean says quietly. It is a cramped fit within the circle and Dean holds Castiel tightly within his arms.

“Alright, Sam,” Dean says to his brother, “Let us go,” Sam steps within the circle and begins to recite an incantation. Castiel presses his face into Dean’s chest as they are instantly engulfed in a white light.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who is following this story, sending me such nice messages and comments. It keeps my confidence up when writing. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, we are going to meet a few more characters before we get into the meat of the story.
> 
> Also, tomorrow is my Birthday! Yay getting older!

Castiel can’t feel anything except for the tight crush of Dean’s body around him. He feels like he’s being flung headfirst into the eye of a hurricane. He squeezes deeper into Dean’s hold, gritting his teeth and crushing his eyes shut. Suddenly, as quick as it began, it stops. Castiel feels the ground under his feet. He lifts his head just enough to notice their surroundings.

They are standing in the center of a softly lit clearing, fenced in by heavy stones. A canopy of tree, washes the area in mottled patterns of pale sunlight and the soft cacophony of wildlife hums around them.

“We are here” Dean whispers. His grip on Castiel loosens and he staggers back a step. Dean reaches out for him.

“Cas…?”Dean asks, concern washing over his expression.

“I think…” Castiel mutters before lurching another step, doubling over and vomiting into the dirt.

“That tends to happen,” he hears Sam say dryly. Dean kneels beside him as he coughs and spits, rubbing his back murmuring softly. Castiel picks his head up and gives Dean a weak smile.

“Are you alright?” Dean asks. Castiel nods hesitantly.

“Dean!” There is a shout across the clearing as an older man jogs toward them.

“What news, Hobb?” Dean calls out, helping Castiel to his feet.

“Thank all, Sam found you,” the older man, Hobb, catches his breath, “Emma has amassed an army of souls. They are readying themselves for an attack. You must hurry.” Dean inhales sharply and squares his shoulder.

“Where?” His face is stone.

“The south valley.” Hobb responds, “Please, you must hurry!” Dean lightly grips Castiel’s arm and turns toward his brother.

“Bring Cas home, show him to my chamber,” He turns his attention to Castiel, “I shall return shortly. Sam and Jessa will provide anything you may need,” He plants a swift kiss on Castiel’s forehead and follows a quickly departing Hobb.

Castiel watches him disappear between the trees, full of questions and fear. Army of Souls? _What_?

“Come, Cas,” Sam directs gently, “Are you feeling well enough to walk?” Castiel nods and follows Sam on shaky legs in the opposite direction.

The walk “home” is thankfully short, but Castiel is still slow going. Sam stops several times, allowing Castiel to catch up and meet him. They walk through a break in the trees, following a narrow path. Castiel’s legs are still unsure and his head throbs painfully.

“If you’d prefer, I can carry you?” Sam offers. The gesture is clearly sincere, but Castiel can sense a strain of condescension in his voice. It is clear Sam doesn’t think very much of mortals, judging by the way he reacted when Dean admitted to being with Castiel.

“I’m fine,” he hissed, pulling himself over a boulder as they traverse a rocky segment of the trail. He grunts as he pushes himself up on his forearms and hoists himself over the next crag.

“So,” Castiel huffs, attempting to make conversation, “Dean says you are a god too? Of learned men?” He catches, out of the corner of his eye, Sam smiling warmly. He pushes his cloak to the side as he crosses over a fallen log in one stride.

“Yes,” Sam responds, “I protect the storytellers, the wise, those with a thirst for knowledge.” He grips onto Castiel’s forearms and helps him over the tree.

“Dean says you are one of them,” Sam says, “That you’d be under my protection.” Castiel meets his eyes. Though both are onyx black, they are different from Dean’s. Where’s Dean’s grassy eyes are full of heat, affection and a sparkle of desire, Sam’s hazel ones only hold a friendly, though cautious, warmth.

“Uh, yeah… I’m a Professor.” Sam squints at him, “A teacher.” Castiel clarifies. He doubles his pace, catching up with Sam’s extended strides.

“What do you teach?” Sam inquires.

“Well, I teach about you, actually,” Castiel shrugs slightly, “Deities, myths, folklore, religion…” He trails off. Sam hums in acknowledgment.

They make their way through the dense, wood until it opens upon another clearing. Castiel gasps audibly at the sight of a large, stone structure. It resembles less a castle and more a military fort. Castiel can’t help smiling, the scholar in him eager to explore.

“Wow,” he breathes. Sam snorts softly in amusement and tips his head toward the structure.

Just then, a lovely blond woman runs emerges from the door.

“Sam!” She cries, running toward him and throwing herself into his arms. Sam catches her easily and spins her around, his face pressed into a thick mound of blond curls.

“I said I would return soon,” He says playfully, gazing into her lovely blue eyes and he sets her on the ground.

“Not soon enough, love of mine,” she replies. She notices Castiel and turns to him.

“Who is this?” she asks, eying him curiously. Castiel notices how unique her features are: uncommonly high cheekbones, high, arched brows, thin retrousse nose and beneath the thick of her curls a sharp point of an ear pokes out.

“This,” Sam says, pointing a hand in introduction, “Is Cas. He is what called to Dean.” The girl’s eyes go wide and she bobs her head demurely.

“I am Jessa,” She says.

“She is my mate,” Sam explains with a proud glint in his eye, taking Jessa by the hand. “Come, we must set him up in chambers while Dean settles that awful scourge.” Sam places a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and directs him toward the fortress.

Inside, the air is cool and damp. Castiel stumbles for a moment as his eyes adjust to the dark of the room. Jessa loops an arm under his, helping through the corridors and up stairs. He wants to protest that he a grown man and can handle himself, but the girl’s sweetness and sincerity won’t allow him to say a harsh word to her.

Sam guides them through a long hallway, coming to an intricately carved door. It opens with a loud moan as they enter.

“This is Dean’s chambers,” Sam says, “ I imagine you shall be staying here.” Castiel nods slowly, taking in his surroundings. A large bed lays in the center, draped in furs. A stone-top table sits to the side, stacked with books and sheets of parchment. There is a large wooden wardrobe, Taller than Sam by at least a foot and firelight bathes the room in a warm, ambient glow.

“It’s nice,” Castiel says finally, and he means it. The whole space is warm and inviting and it smells distinctly of Dean.

“I shall gather some clothes,” Jessa says. Sam nods at her and she disappears from the doorway. Castiel slowly tours the room, reaching out and touching the furs, the table, the mantle decorated with trinkets.

“I hope that my behavior earlier does not have you believe that you are unwelcome here,” Sam say, breaking the silence. Castiel looks at him suspiciously, “It was not intentional.” Castiel sighs heavily.

“It’s alright,” he says, not even believing his own words.

“You must understand, we are wary of Dean’s lovers,” Sam explains. Castiel huffs a sarcastic laugh.

“I bet he’s had many,” he mutters.

“Oh yes,” Sam answers and Castiel can’t help the small ache of jealousy, “But not for some time. And not mortal.” Castiel turns and considers Sam. For such an imposing figure, at this moment, he seems apprehensive.

“When Dean first heard you call, he said it sounded as if someone were singing his name, and then he vanished. We knew not where he went,” Sam continues, “It has been many years, centuries, since we have even seen a mortal and for Dean to insist that we bring one into the realm…”

“You think he cast a spell on me,” Castiel says flatly. Sam shakes his head.

“I believe it is you who may have cast a spell on him, intended or not” Sam admits shyly. Castiel sits upon the bed, stunned by this admission.

“How could I have possibly cast a spell on him?” He asks.  It is perhaps the most ridiculous idea he’s heard.

“You were you able to call to him,” Sam answers, “Dean said there was a book.”

“Yeah, I… I read the book,” Castiel admits, shaking his head, “It was brought to my library. It was about you, your family. But it wasn’t a spellbook” _Was it?_ Castiel stops. He had had such trouble translating the text. could he have cast a spell on Dean?

“A book of my family? A History?” Sam asks, scrutinizing Castiel, who shakes his head absently.

“Yeah, It was an ancient tome,” Castiel answers, “I was trying to read it and Dean suddenly appeared.” Sam hummed in thought.

“A history,” he mumbles to himself. He looks up at Castiel, “If you saw it again, would you know it on sight?” Castiel nods deliberately. As much time as he spent coveting the text, he’s pretty sure he could draw the front cover from memory.

“Yeah,” he says. Sam stands quickly.

“Would you allow me your leave for a moment,” Sam asks with a small bow. Castiel nods and Sam disappears through the door. He gazes around the room. He walk to a table holding a wash basin in front of a large mirror. He glances at himself and frowns. He’s still wearing the clothes he chose before they left the house this morning: tan trench coat, white oxford shirt, and dark jeans, all of which are a little worse for wear from their trip. He shucks off the coat and drapes it over the bed, _Dean’s bed_ Castiel thinks.

A heavy curtain covers a window. Castiel pushes it aside and gazes out over the surrounding area. Below them, a vast forest stretches for miles. He sees an older man and woman walking along the foot of the fortress deep in conversation. A few others mill about the courtyard. Castiel wonders if they are gods, like Sam and Dean, or other types of beings. It is clear that Jessa is something inhuman and from what it sounds like, so is this Emma person.

“You’re different.” a voice says behind him. Castiel curses loudly and jumps back in fright. His heart beats rapidly as he spots a man sitting atop the wardrobe, gazing down at him. He eyes wearily Castiel, tilting his head and sniffing.

“You smell different, too,” he says. Castiel holds a hand to his chest, still shaken by the man’s presence. He leaps off of the wardrobe, landing gracefully on his feet. He’s small, maybe a couple inches shorter than Castiel, and has eyes saturated gold. He wears nothing but a pair of tattered and threadbare short-pants and his upper body and arms are covered in strangely patterned scars, barely visible in the low light.

“You smell sweet, like honey,” the small man grins, flashing a row of sharp teeth, “I bet you taste just as sweet.” Castiel stumbles back, hitting the nightstand.

“I’m sorry, I don’t…” Castiel mumbles. The man sniffs closer, his eyes flashing bright.

“Who are…?” Castiel tries to ask.

“Gabriel!” Sam shouts, reentering the room. The small man jerks his head up and smiles at Sam. He bounds toward him, leaping onto his back and crawling over him like a spider monkey.

“There is a stranger here, Sam,” Gabriel whispers conspiratorially, “He smells of honey. I think we should eat him.” Castiel makes a choked noise at this. Sam easily plucks Gabriel off of his shoulder and places him on the ground.

“We do not eat mortals,” Sam scolds, causing Gabriel to pout in response.

“You, maybe.” Gabriel rolls his eyes, “I am not nearly so picky.”

“Gabriel,” Sam says in a warning tone. “You must behave, or else I shall let Dean turn you into a rabbit.” Gabriel’s eyes go wide.

“We do not touch the mortal; he is _Dean’s_.” Sam stresses the last part causing Gabriel to raise an eyebrow.

“Now shoo,” Sam waves him out of the room and shuts the heavy door, “I apologize for that; we are pestered by a trickster sprite. He means no ill will, though.”

“He was going to eat me?” Castiel asks in disbelief. Sam laughs softly.

“He likes to vex those around him,” he says, shaking his head, “He’ll be pleased to see that he now has another plaything, besides Dean.” Sam takes a heavy book from under his arm and sets it on the bed. It is identical to the one in Castiel’s library.

“That’s the book,” Castiel says in amazement. He glances at Sam, awestruck, “How?”

“We only have one history,” Sam says with a small shrug. He opens the book and turns it toward Castiel, “Show me what you read.” Castiel pulls the book toward him and glances at the page, the same enigmatic language staring back at him. He slowly turns the pages until he comes upon the sketch of Dean’s face.

“There,” he says, pointing to a passage at the bottom. Sam turns the book back toward him.

“I call to the god of the hunt, invoke the protector of the family, honor me with thy presence and protection. I vow to follow you in this realm and the next. Find me Dean, within all realms and days,” Sam reads quietly. He glances at Castiel, “Are you sure this was it?” Castiel gives a half-hearted nod.

“It’s hard to tell. I could only make out about half the words.” Castiel says. Sam reads further silently.

“Well, it’s not an enchantment,” Sam murmurs turning a page and briefly glancing at the sketch of his mother. “You need not worry about that.”

“I wasn’t,” Castiel lies. Sam catches his eye, giving him a hard look.

“You were,” he says ignoring Castiel’s deception, “But so was I.” Sam closes the book and straightens himself.

“Your relationship with my brother is not my concern,” he continues, “Yet, it still is. I am his second in command and his only family. Please don’t think my mistrust is a personal slight on you; I can assure you it is not.”

“You’re just worried for Dean,” Castiel fills in.

“And you,” Sam adds, plainly, “There have been many other lovers. Some, Dean has left heartbroken, but most… most abandon him.” Sam looks down, lost in a memory. Castiel sits on the bed and carefully considers his words.

“If you plan on returning to your realm,” Sam continues, “Please do so before you can hurt him.” Castiel sees for the first time the brotherly affection within Sam’s words.

“I guess it’s your job as an older brother to worry about him,” Castiel chuckles softly. Sam frowns.

“I am not the elder,” he says, “Dean is.” Castiel can’t help his befuddled expression.

“But I thought-”

“I shall take your leave now,” Sam says suddenly, bowing shortly and exiting the room. Castiel sighs and lays back on the bed, noticing the tome out of the corner of his eye.

“Might as well,” he says sitting up and opening book. It’s slow going as he phonetically sounds out the words, hoping to make some sort of sense.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on Steffi's (Diminuel's) [art](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/) and [Pagan Gods Verse](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/tagged/pagan_gods-verse). Please take time to check it out


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a beta, so thanks to [Veera](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphene/pseuds/morphene) for stepping up.

Dean hikes through the dense wood. Streams of sunlight glint off of his silver armor, casting rays onto the surrounding trees. The forest is silent, but he can still hear Hobb’s voice in his ear warning him to be wary of Emma and her battalion. The old hunter had been determined to come along, but Dean had forbade it and Hobb was not one to disobey an order. Even still, it had taken much convincing to keep Hobb from following. Dean knew this was something that he alone must do. As the trees begin to thin on the south clearing, Emma’s army rises up to meet him. They are tall, imposing figures, lost and broken souls of the dead, twisted by grief, pain, and revenge. They are citizens of Emma’s realm, her minions.

As soon as Dean sets foot into the clearing, they begin to take up their weapons. They are prepared to attack, warned by their mistress of the wrath of her foes.

“Stand down!” Dean announces, dropping his stance into a less combative one. He holds his sword at his side, always ready to defend, but not eager to move first. Her army isn’t listening, their fists wrapped tightly around their swords and axes, awaiting any cue to attack. Dean’s expression is hard, but internally he smiles to himself. They have no idea who they are facing.

“I said stand down!” he shouts. He suddenly shoots his arm out before him. A pulse of energy blasts forth and knocks the souls off their feet.

“Unless you want to face down my blade, I suggest you stay down,” Dean yells, his dark eyes flaring with anger. The souls glare at him cautiously.

“Now, if your queen wishes for a fight, she shall do so herself, not behind her minions like a coward. You shall pass that message along to her.” A murmur rises among the crowd. One in front snorts sarcastically and begins to reach for his axe. Before his fingers can even grasp it, he is jerked off the ground and flung through the air across the clearing.

“Anyone else brave enough to face me?” Dean growls. The army slinks down, no one meeting his eye. Dean nods and backs his way out of the clearing.

“Tell your queen that tomorrow night we shall meet within my court,” Dean calls out over his shoulder, “and only then.”

**** 

A soft knock at the door rouses Castiel from his reading.

“Come in,” he calls out. Jessa enters the room carrying a bundle of fabric.

“I bring clothes,” she says, dropping the pile on the bed. “I do hope they fit.” Castiel leans over and carefully picks through the clothing.They are downy and well-worn linen. There are a few tunics with intricately-detailed collars, a belt, and a pair of soft drawstring trousers. Castiel can see Jessa’s worried glance out of the corner of his eye.

“These are wonderful, Jessa. Thank you,” he assures. The girl beams, her whole body almost glowing. Her eyes flick to the open tome.

“You are enjoying the book?” she asks. Castiel huffs a strange laugh as he begins to unbutton his oxford shirt. He stops for a moment, believing she may leave, but she stays in place.

“As much as I can,” he says, glancing at the open page, “I can’t make anymore sense of it than I did the first time.” Jessa hums in response.

“You should speak to Hobb,” she offers. “He wrote this, he’d be of help.” Castiel frowns, slipping the shirt off his shoulders.

“Hobb?” He thinks he remembers him as the older man who lead Dean away when they first arrived.

“He wrote this?” Jessa nods, blushing and turning away as Castiel begins to strip off his jeans.

“He was mortal once. A good man, wise, too,” she says, keeping her back to Castiel. “He transcribed the book from Sam’s words.”

“And how did he end up here? In this realm?” Castiel asks, tying the string on the trousers.

“He swore loyalty to both Dean and Sam in his life and was rewarded for it,” she answers. She peeks back around to see if he was fully dressed. Castiel carefully folds his clothes and stacks them on the bed.

“Thank you for everything,” Castiel says awkwardly after a minute. Jessa rocks on her feet for a moment and glances at the clothes on the bed.

“You’re the first mortal I’ve seen,” she blurts out, an embarrassed flush rising to her cheeks. “Normally, a servant would see to you, but I… I wanted to speak to you more.” She glances up sheepishly. Castiel had indeed wondered what Sam’s wife and, for all purposes, the lady of the house was doing waiting on him?

“Jessa, what are you?” Castiel wonders. She turns to him with a curious expression. “I mean, you’re not like Sam or Dean, are you?” Jessa shakes her head.

“I am Fae,” she says with a soft smile. Castiel raises an eyebrow.

“A fairy?” he asks. She nods and bites hesitantly at her lip.

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Castiel says, “you’re the first fairy I’ve ever met.” She gives him a grateful smile. The door suddenly creaks open and Dean enters. As soon as his eyes land on Castiel, his whole face brightens. He notices Jessa and nods politely.

“Jessa, I see you are keeping Cas company,” Dean says, closing the door behind him.

“I was,” Jessa says, smiling at Castiel. “He is a kind person.” Dean nods in agreement. Jessa bids a quick goodbye before exiting, leaving Castiel and Dean alone.

“I apologize for my absence, Cas,” Dean says, closing the chamber door, “I had to quell Emma’s forces.”

“It’s alright. I kept myself entertained,” Castiel replied, pointing to the tome.

“Ah, Sam brought you a book.” Dean lifts the cover and absently leafs through the pages.

“It is the same book,” Castiel clarifies, “same as the one in my library.”

“So it is,” Dean murmurs without looking up.

“Did you know you had it?” Castiel asks

“The library is Sam’s place. I rarely venture there.” He lifts his head and looks at Castiel, eyes shining in the firelight. “But it is safe to assume we would have a history of our family.” Dean smiles at him. A thought quickly crosses Castiel’s mind.

“So… A daughter, huh?” Castiel keeps his tone light, trying to restrain his surprise. Dean rubs a hand across his brow.

“Cas-” he starts.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not mad or anything, it’s your business,” Castiel continues, “I mean, at one time in my life, it might’ve been a dealbreaker, but now I’m not too concerned with that kind of thing. Sill, it’s just one of those items you bring up with someone you are interested in… um… I guess wooing or courting?”

“It’s not as you imagine,” Dean levels his gaze at Castiel.

“I know it’s kind of bad luck to bring up past relationships-”

“There was no relationship,” Dean cuts him off gently, taking a seat on the bed next to Castiel. “Emma does not have a mother. She was born of war.” Castiel sits up straighter.

“There was a battle and I had slain an enemy. He had spilt my blood as well,” Dean explained.

“Emma rose from the ground where our blood met.” Castiel nodded in understanding. Births like this were not uncommon in mythology and folklore; there are many tales of deities being born fully grown.

“Emma is my daughter, but she was never my child,” Dean continues. “I am sorry she is causing so much trouble at this time. These are not the circumstances under which I wanted to bring you here.” Castiel reaches out and takes Dean’s hand.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Anything,” Dean answers.

“When you said that you couldn’t return to my world, what did you mean?” Dean looks up, collecting his thoughts.

“The gateways between realms are not steadfast and breaching them is dependent on who is traveling them. One is always linked to their own realm and can always return there, but one cannot exist in two.”

“I don’t follow,” Castiel says, shaking his head. Dean bites at his lip, concentrating on an explanation.  
“When you called me, you invited me into your world, just as I invited you here,” Dean continues. “I cannot return to your realm without invitation.”

“But I have the book,” Castiel asks, “couldn’t I just summon you again?” Dean shakes his head sadly.

“The summons can only be issued once.” Dean answers, “You would need to find another to bring me.” Castiel’s face falls. There were other theology professors who might have an interest in the tome, but none with the linguistic abilities he has. The fact that he had been able to call Dean at all in the first place had probably been a fluke.

“How was Sam able to travel?” Castiel inquires, brows furrowed tight.

“Blood is the only way to cross the barrier unbidden, “ Dean explains, “Sam and I are blood-bound as brothers.” He suddenly lifts off his tunic. Castiel’s mouth goes dry as Dean reveals the tanned expanse of his chest and torso. To say he has the body of a god would be redundant but accurate. Freckles gently decorate his shoulder and collarbone, and Castiel has a crushing desire to reach out touch every single one of them. As his eyes travel down, a mark above Dean’s heart catches his attention; a black knotted star, encircled in flames.

“I recognize that,” Castiel says and quickly reaches for the book. He closes it and points to the front cover. “There,” he indicates.

“It is our family mark,” Dean says, touching the symbol on his chest absently. “Sam has one as well.”

“And Jessa?” Castiel asks. He would assume that if she and Sam are married, she would be family as well.

“I suppose, though I have never seen it,” Dean responds. He reaches for his clothing when Castiel’s hand grasps his wrist.

“You don’t have to,” he murmurs, a wry smile curling the corner of his mouth. Castiel unexpectedly leans in closer and plants a soft kiss upon Dean’s lips. Dean stiffens for only a moment, Castiel’s actions taking him by surprise, before melting into the kiss and wrapping his arms around Castiel’s middle. He slips his tongue past Dean’s, enjoying the clean taste of his mouth. He groans as he wraps his arms around Dean’s neck and practically crawls into his lap. Maybe it was Sam’s mention of other lovers, but Castiel feels a sudden surge of possessiveness over Dean. He wants to wrap himself around this beautiful, dark-eyed being and never let anyone else get near him again. His mouth slips downs, sucking on the tender flesh down the side of Dean’s neck. Dean gasps and his hands slide up Castiel’s chest over his tunic. He pushes him back, breaking the kiss.

“Cas,” he breathes, “please, this is a most pleasant torture, but torture nonetheless.” He let’s his head fall forward against Castiel’s. Castiel tips up Dean’s chin with a knuckle and looks him in the eye; the green of his eyes are dilated out into the black.

“I’m tired of slow, Dean,” he whispers. His tongue flicks out, lightly touching Dean’s bottom lip. Dean moves forward, his mouth now flush with Castiel’s, pressing him back onto the bed. Dean crawls up over him, sliding their legs together. His hands wander down, rucking Castiel’s tunic over his chest.

Castiel’s hands fly to the edge of his own trousers, frantically fiddling with the string at the front. Dean’s hands grip him around his waist and he suddenly flips them pulling Castiel on top of him.

“No, Cas,” Dean sighs as he pulls away from the kiss. “I would like to unwrap you like the gift you are.” He kisses Castiel tenderly as his hands slide his tunic past his shoulders and over his head. Goosebumps rise to Castiel’s skin despite of the warmth of the room. Dean mouths over his shoulder when there is a loud knock at the door.

“Dean?” Sam calls out. Dean’s head drops and he lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Yes, Sam,” he answers.

“Our evening meal shall be ready shortly and Hobb and Ellyn are here to speak to you,” Sam says. Dean runs an aggravated hand through his hair. Castiel climbs off of him and sits up on the bed.

“Cas and I will be down shortly, Sam,” Dean answers. Sam’s footsteps echo down the hall. Dean turns to Castiel and offers a soft kiss.

“I apologize,” Dean says contritely. “We shall pursue this later.” Castiel doesn’t say anything, but simply nods. He grabs his tunic off the bed and slips it back over his head.

“Are you hungry, Cas?” Dean asks, smoothing out his own clothes. Castiel nods enthusiastically.

“Very much so,” he answers. Dean takes his hand.

“Come,” he says, planting another kiss on the top of his knuckles, “let us see what there is to eat.”

****  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://powerfulweak.tumblr.com/)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to [Diminuel (Steffi)](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/) for creating this verse and thank you to [Veera](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphene/pseuds/morphene) for beta-ing

When Castiel had first arrived at Dean’s home, he had been herded so quickly to Dean’s Chamber by Sam and Jessa that he hadn’t got a good glimpse of his surroundings. Now, as he and Dean descend the stairs, he has more of a chance to look. The fortress has long hallways with heavy curtains draping the windows. There isn’t any sort of art or paintings on the walls, only shelves and shelves of books seem to line every corridor.

“They belong to Sam,” Dean says, catching Castiel twisting his head to examine the spines. “I am sure if you’d like to read more, he can provide you some.” Castiel smiles and squeezes Dean’s hand.

“I’m good, Dean,” he assures. He glances over his surroundings. “Was this your father’s home before he..?” Castiel turns to face Dean and almost instantly regrets his words. Dean’s brow pinches together in thought.

“You don’t have to tell-” Castiel rushes out.

“It was,” Dean interrupts. “He had built it for my mother.”

“Your mother? But I thought-?”

“She chose to stay in her village,” he supplies sadly. Castiel is interested to know why, but he doesn’t want to push Dean further into his gloom. They walk in silence before coming upon the dining hall. Castiel had been expecting some sort of large, cavernous dining room, like something out of _Game of Thrones_ , but the space is far more intimate. It reminds Castiel of the annexed study areas at the school’s library. A long, polished wooden table sits in the center surrounded by a few chairs. Oil lamps cast a golden glow as a few servants place wooden bowls of food on the table. Castiel catches Jessa’s eye across the room where she is speaking with Sam and Hobb. He gives her a little wave. Dean lets out a triumphant little noise as he goes to grab an apple before his hand is smacked away by a dark-haired woman.

“Ahh! Ellyn!” he cries out, shaking his hand in pain. The woman, Ellyn, shakes her head at him. She is dressed much the same as Jessa in a simple sheath dress, cinched at her waist. He hair is loosely braided down her back and, while she doesn’t appear very aged, her eyes hold a sort of old wisdom.

“Not yet,” she scolds, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Ellyn, I am ruler of this realm-”

“And you shall be a proper host then,” she cuts him off, raising an eyebrow. The irritation on her face suddenly drops and she approaches Dean, placing her hands on the side of his face. “It is wonderful to see you again, Dean. You were missed.” Dean smiles at her as she lightly squeezes his face. She drops her hands and turns her attention to Castiel.

“And you returned with a mortal,” she announces with a wide, genuine smile. She reaches out and clasps one of Castiel’s hands in both of her’s.

“I am Ellyn,” she says.

“Castiel,” he responds, awkwardly trying to shake her hands.

“Ellyn was mortal once,” Dean explains. Ellyn nods at this.

“High Priestess of our land,” she adds. “I was given sanctuary here.” Castiel’s brow draws tight.

“Sanctuary from what?” he asks. Before an explanation can be made, Sam, Jessa and Hobb approach the three of them.

“Dean, we must plan for battle,” Hobb says. Like Ellyn, he doesn’t look elderly, but there is an agelessness to his eyes that is unmistakable. Castiel hides a small grin behind his hand as he notices a resemblance between the man and Gimli the Dwarf from _Lord of the Rings_.

“There shall be no battle, Hobb,” Dean dismisses the idea with a wave of his hand. “We will not bring war into our realm. It never ends well.”

“You cannot just let Emma run wild with her army,” Hobb insists.

“I don’t plan on it,” Dean says, sitting at a chair near the head of the table. The rest of the party take their seats as well. “I faced her army of souls earlier and invited her here to the fortress.” There is a noticeable silence throughout the room.

“Dean, forgive me, but are you an utter idiot?” Castiel notices the strange accent that Hobb has apart from the others; _idiot_ coming out like _id-jit_. “Family she may be, she would think nothing of skinning you alive to take control of the realm.” Hobb scrubs a hand over his thick beard.

“I do not plan on bending to her,” Dean says, “but it is a dishonor to threaten insurgency without showing your face. If Emma wants a fight, she shall need to fight me first.” A small, proud smile crawls over Sam’s face and Castiel thinks to ask him later about it.

“I still believe it is an unwise move,” Hobb sighs. Dishes begins to pass around to food. Castiel spoons a heaping portion of some sort of stew into the rough-hewn metal bowl in front of him.

“I know you do, Hobb,” Dean answers kindly, “and I value your wisdom in these matters almost above anyone, but we must tread lightly in this case. Emma is the worst kind of opponent.”

“Unpredictable,” Castiel doesn’t even realize he has spoken aloud until he glances up and sees the entire table staring at him. Dean beams at him and gives an impressed nod.

“Exactly, Cas. Unpredictable. She is chaotic. We must bring her to our territory on _our_ terms.” Dean digs into his food and everyone else follows suit.

The rest of the meal passes pleasantly. They chat and catch up while Castiel is content to watch and listen, enjoying his game stew immensely.

“This is delicious,” he says quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jessa smile and bite her lip.

“Jessa is a wonderful cook,” Sam says, squeezing her arm lovingly.

“Indeed she is,” Dean adds, taking in another mouthful. “Not as good as I, though,” he adds teasingly. Sam rolls his eyes and Jessa shakes her head fondly. Castiel glances at Dean in surprise.

“You cook?” he asks, shocked that a god would do something as domestic as cooking.

“Of course,” Dean says, cocking an eyebrow. “A hunter must know what to do with an animal once it has been caught. Although, I can make nothing as wonderful as your offering was.” Dean shoots Castiel a flirtatious smile. Castiel huffs an embarrassed laugh.

“You gave an offering?” Sam asks incredulously. Everyone looks up from their food and stares at Castiel.

“It wasn’t anything special-”

“It was most wonderful,” Dean interupts, eyes lighting up, “It was called _Pie_ , and it had this tender bread on the outside and was filled with the most incredible confection you can imagine. I could’ve eaten a dozen of them!” Dean leans back in his chair, sighing happily at the memory.

“I didn’t actually make it. It was from the-” Castiel mumbles before Dean cuts him off once again.

“You should make it again!” Dean implores, “Sam and Jessa must try it!” A chorus of affirmatives rises from the table. Castiel bites at the inside of his cheek, unsure how to explain how he has never made a pie before. It can’t be that difficult though, right? _Easy as Pie_ as the saying goes.

“Ok,” Castiel says finally. Dean takes his hand and lifts it to his lips, the green centers of his eyes alight.

“Thank you, Cas,” he whispers, loud enough that only Castiel hears.

Dinner continues without incident. Hobb continues to offer warnings to Dean regarding Emma, which Dean waves off without concern. Ellyn asks after Castiel’s life and he explains his role at the university.

“It’s actually more than a little surreal being here,” he admits.

“How so?” Ellyn asks.

“It’s just… I teach religion, gods, goddesses, that whole lot,” Castiel explains, “but it’s all in theory. Most of what I teach is long gone, all the followers dead and the texts now just part of history. Hell, I consider myself an atheist. Modern religion is simply philosophy to me.” Ellyn nods in understanding, a calm focused expression on her face.

“To be told and see, without a shadow of a doubt, that this world exists…” Castiel sighs heavily, “It puts a lot of doubt into what I know or what I think I know.’’

“You probably don’t know who Plato is, but his Cave analogy is at work here,” he continues, “I’m not entirely sure what is real and what isn’t.” Ellyn looks down at her hands and considers this.

“I believe I understand, Cas,” Ellyn says after a moment. “In my time, there were many questions about the magic of the gods. Were they born with it? Were they mortals who were given their power and, if so, by whom?” She glances quickly to her left where Dean, Sam and Hobb are deep in conversation.

“I personally believe that the magic of the gods came from within them. They believed they were powerful and so they were. The greater the belief, the more power they yielded. And the more followers they gained through that power, the more that power grew.”

“It’s almost like Descartes, huh?” Castiel adds with a grin, which only causes Ellyn to tilt her head in confusion. He dismisses the thought with a shake of his head. “Nevermind. Sam and Dean are still so powerful, though. Wouldn’t… I mean, they really don’t _have_ followers anymore.”

“They do,” Ellyn says, indicating the staff milling about the room. “There are many inhabitants to this realm who were once mortal, as Hobb and myself were. Pure souls, devoted to the gods.”

“They said Emma’s army was souls,” Castiel says. Ellyn’s expression darkens suddenly.

“The Lost Souls. The vengeful, the angry, the incomplete.” She looks up at Castiel, her eyes pained as if she can see something terrible just over the horizon.

“They are dangerous and Hobb has reason for concern for Dean.” Castiel looks to Dean, who is bellowing a laugh to in response to something Hobb or Sam said. Jessa wanders over the the table and plops down next to Ellyn. The conversation switches to a less intense subject, but what Ellyn says is not far from the front of Castiel’s mind.

 

***

 

Dean stokes the fire in the hearth, the orange flames casting ghostly shadows on the wall of his chambers. Castiel sits up in the bed, blanketed in furs, watching him. It had been an exceptionally long day and Ellyn and Hobb’s visit had lasted long into the evening. It had only ended when Dean had caught of Castiel nodding off against the arm of his chair.

“Are you warm enough, Cas?” Dean asks, crawling up onto the bed. With his back to the light, his features are nearly indistinguishable, save for the shining green of his eyes. Castiel could spend hours examining them, trying to figure out how they changed and seemed to glow even in the dark.

“I’m fine, Dean,” he says with a heavy yawn. He huddles deep within the bedcovers as Dean slips in along side him. He is still in his tunic, unsure if they were going to carry on where they had left off from earlier. Dean is shirtless and warm against him. He reaches out and pulls Castiel into his arms, his head pillowed on his shoulder. Castiel leans up and presses his lips to Dean’s. Dean responds and the kiss quickly becomes eager. Just as Castiel begins shifting himself between Dean’s legs, a large hand presses on his chest. Castiel pulls back, confused as to why they are stopping.

“Sleep now, Cas,” Dean says softly. “You are tired. There shall be plenty of time for this later.” He presses a soft kiss to Castiel’s forehead.

“What if there’s not?” Castiel whispers. Dean looks at him with concern. “Ellyn said that Emma’s army is dangerous and Hobb is right to be concerned for your safety.”

“Hobb is a worrywart,” Dean says dismissively.

“But… but what if something happens?” Castiel says, resting his head on Dean’s chest. “What if Hobb is right?” Dean tilts his head down and considers him.

“Do you want me to bed you because you fear I may not survive?” Dean asks. Castiel averts his eyes sheepishly and Dean chuckles lightly. “Cas, I am far from finished wooing you. I give you my word that I will come to no harm if only to do that.” Castiel glances up at him, firelight flickering in his glassy, tired stare.

“I do not break my promises,” Dean murmurs. He kisses into Castiel’s hair once more with another appeal to sleep. Castiel hunkers down next to Dean and lets himself be lulled to sleep by the sound of the fire.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you need a visual reference, I picture the layout of the Fortress resembling the Bunker.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Emma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long delay on this chapter. GISHWHES had me in a weird head space which wasn't conducive to writing.  
> In apology, this chapter is longer than usual and heavily plot-driven. Thank you everyone for sticking with me, reading and commenting.  
> And as always, thank you to [Diminuel (Steffi)](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/) for her art.
> 
> Thank you to [Veera](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphene/pseuds/morphene) for beta-ing

Dean stands in the open courtyard of the fortress flanked by Hobb and Sam. Ellyn stands a distance away, far enough to be separate from the proceedings but close enough to provide aid if needed. Hobb insisted on Ellyn’s presence, saying that Dean had a way of letting his temperament get the better of a situation. Ellyn was a calming presence, he’d said.

Although he couldn’t see them, he knew Jessa and Cas we’re watching from a window. Cas had been hard-headed and had not wanted to leave Dean’s side. Thankfully, Jessa had pulled him with her, arguing that she needed company.

Dean worried for Cas. He was mortal, after all: weak, fragile, temporary. His life would be over in the blink of Dean’s eye and, despite the many warnings and reminders from Sam of this fact, Dean still didn’t care. Cas was worth having, worth courting, if only for a short time. He wanted to cherish their every moment together, but in order to do that, Dean needed to neutralize the threat of Emma first.

Dean sighed. He had initially tried with the girl when she had risen on the battlefield, blood-stained and stone-faced. He had asked her to return to the fortress with him, under his care, but she had refused, running off into the forest and then to her own realm. Their relationship was not one of a child and parent but of adversaries in a tentative truce. Until now, that is.

Emma had made attempts on Dean’s power before, but nothing serious. Idle threats and passive anger were Emma’s main weapons up to this point. For her to gather an army was much more concerning.   
There is a cough besides him and Sam shuffles his feet. Dean glances over to him and smirks.

“Are you sure she will attend here?” Hobb asks, wiping a calloused hand over his blade. Dean nods solemnly. She would come, he knew it, because to not come, to not face her opponent, would show her as a coward.

“Do you have a plan, Dean?” Sam says, his tone tight and sullen. Dean huffs a bitter laugh.

“Tell me, Sam, how does one plan for an enemy with no plan themselves,” Dean asks sarcastically. “Unpredictable, remember?”

Sam is about to counter Dean’s response when there is a rustle within the wood. All three men tense and stand at the ready.

She is here.

***

 

Castiel and Jess watch from a lower window. He can hear Sam and Hobb speaking, but he can’t understand what they are saying. Jessa is squeezed in close to him, her ears pricking up at the noise.

“Can you… um?” Castiel points to his own ear, hoping Jessa will understand his meaning without him having to say it. She smiles shyly and pushes a  lock of hair over her pointed ear.

“Are my ears more astute? Is that your question, Cas?” she asks. Castiel sighs gratefully and nods.

“Yes, a bit,” She replies, “They are not saying anything of any import, but…” She stops speaking and cranes her neck toward the courtyard, “there is someone coming.” Her words are cool and lifeless.

“Have you...” Castiel begins. “Have you ever met Emma before?” Jessa shakes her head.

“I have not,” she responds. “Sam says she is dangerous. He will not tell me why.”

“Yeah, Dean said she wants to take over.”

“That isn’t why,” Jessa says stiffly. “There is something Sam read that makes her dangerous, even if she didn’t want the realm, but he’s refused to say what it is.’’

Castiel watches her, the anxiety coiling in his stomach growing tighter. Castiel opens his mouth to say something more when Jessa holds up a hand. Someone emerges from amongst the trees, cloaked in dark furs.

“There she is,” Jessa breathes. Castiel’s gaze zeroes in on the girl. That is exactly what she is: A girl. She looks younger than most of Castiel’s undergrads. He doesn’t know what he expected, but it most definitely wasn’t a teenager.

“She’s a kid!” he says a little too sharply.

***

 

Emma steps out from the wood silently. Dean squares his shoulders as she approaches. She looks the same as she has for a millennia: pale, milky skin, long copper colored hair, a hard, vacant stare set in crimson eyes. When she sees Dean, she flashes him a cold smile.

“Father.” Her voice is high and breathy, like that of the young girl she resembles.

“Emma,” Dean gives a stony greeting. She raises a questioning brow in his direction.

“It has been such a long time since I have been in this realm.” She glances around the clearing, quirking her mouth to the side. “But when my own father attacks my regiment and then proceeds to challenge my honor, it seems that my presence becomes necessary.”

“When my daughter tries to overthrow my realm, her honor ought to be challenged,” Dean replies coolly. 

“Not when I am going after my birth right,” Emma says blithely.

“What makes you think this realm has ever been your right?” Sam barks, stepping forward, hand clenched around his weapon.

“Sam,” Dean gives a stern warning to his brother, holding an arm out to stop him. Emma shakes her head and steps toward the men. Dean can feel Hobb shift beside him, no doubt going for his own weapon. Emma’s movements don’t seem to be signaling an attack, though. Her gaze is locked on Dean and within the red of her eyes he can still make out the familiar shade of green. Emma stops a few steps in front of him. She reaches up and undoes her cloak, letting it fall to the ground. She is dressed much the same as Sam and him: Tarnished silver armor, dark linen tunic, sturdy leather boots. She is not a dainty creature; she is a warrior.

Emma  glances at Sam and gives him a small, sympathetic smile.

“Samael,” her voices drops a tone, “I would think you more than anyone would know what my right is. I am, afterall, the daughter of-”

“You are no child of this realm!” Sam growls. He reaches for his weapon, but Dean places a firm hand on his arm. Emma rolls her eyes apathetically.

“I was told I should fight my own battles. I should think you would do the same, Father.” She raises an eyebrow at him. Dean nods and turns toward the fortress, leading the party inside.

***

 

Castiel watches them disappear into the wall. He can hear the sound of the heavy wooden door opening. Jessa turns toward the noise, her ears pricking at the soft whispers of conversation between Sam and Dean echoing down the halls.

“They are sitting down to talk,” Jessa says. Wordlessly, Jessa steps away from the window and wanders down the corridor toward the large stairwell. Castiel follows close behind. The voices floating through the hall are low and serious. He and Jessa inch along the low stone wall of the stairs, peaking over the edge to catch a glimpse of the group

Dean is seated next to Sam. Hobb has stationed himself at the doorway, overseeing the proceedings without be a part of it. Ellyn places a pitcher on the table and Emma smiles politely at her. Castiel furrows his brow; Both Sam and Hobb’s warnings had made Emma out to be a monster, but she seems like a sweet, young girl. A bit petulant maybe, but nothing out of the ordinary. She pauses momentarily and sniffs at the air.

“Is there a Fae here?” Castiel can feel Jessa tense beside him and takes her hand out of comfort.

“Is it one of yours?” she says addressing both brothers. Dean and Sam throw each other the barest of glances; It does not go unnoticed. She looks at Dean. “No, not yours. Yours.” She focuses her gaze on Sam.

“Ah, it is, isn’t it? Oh, a sweet little Fae, all dainty and delicate.” Emma gushes sarcastically, “Perfect for sinking into each night, yes Samael?” Sam’s nostrils flare and his hands clench into fists on the table.

“Emma,” Dean warns quietly.

“Oh, I’m only having fun, Sam, don’t be so serious. I do love the Fae, you know that,” she says, “They are so… sweet. Have you ever had one boiled? I especially like them over the fire.” Emma smiles wickedly, displaying a mouth full of sharp, shining teeth. Sam’s eyes go wide and his hand clenches tightly around his knife, knuckles going white. Jessa whimpers quietly next to Castiel. He moves closer to her, wrapping his arms around her. Her whole body trembles.

“Will there be anything else, Dean?” Ellyn says, breaking the tension and placing a goblet in front of him. Dean shakes his head and watches her disappear through the door past Hobb.

“And here I thought you had no more followers,” Emma says, pouring water into a goblet.

“Ellyn isn’t a follower, she is a friend,” Dean corrects. Emma waves her hand in a dismissive gesture, “We are here. Let us talk: What is it you want?” Emma takes a sip of the water and looks at Dean seriously.

“I was born here. This realm was my first home.” Emma’s voice is clear and concise. “I am the daughter of a god. Your blood runs within me. You and I both know I have as much right as any other creature to this place.” Dean gives a small nods and looks down thoughtfully.

“I understand that,” he says, “and had you agreed to stay as I asked in the beginning, I might be more apt to agree.” He raises an eyebrow as emphasis and Emma responds with a tight smile.

“As if that makes any sort of difference,” she huffs, “You yourself were not born of this realm and yet you became the lord of it. This place is crawling with creatures: spirits, souls,” she throws a cheeky look at Sam, “Fae. All of these are granted the right to be here. I am not. Why? Because I didn’t want to play by your rules?” She looks at Dean pleadingly.

“You have your own realm,” Sam interrupts. Emma shoots him a disgusted glare.

“Oh spare me!” she bites, “A patch of dirt surrounded by unwanted souls. Yes, it’s absolute _paradise_!” Her words drip with sarcasm.

“What is it you want, Emma?” Dean says flatly. Emma composes herself.

“What are you willing to offer?” Dean glances at Hobb and Sam and gives a small nod.

“The north end of the realm,” he offers. Emma snorts derisively.

“Oh, a slightly smaller patch of dirt. How generous.”

“You wanted a place within this realm, Dean is providing it.” Sam hisses. Emma sighs and shakes her head.

“What kind of imbecile do you take me for, Samael.” Emma narrows her gaze at Sam, “This realm is so much vaster than that! Father could entitle me to so much more and he knows it.”

“What is it you think you want?” Dean inquires. Emma looks at him, measuring her words.

“I want my birthright,” she says stiffly, “to be ruler of the realm.” Hobb makes a quiet choking noise in surprise and Sam inhales sharply.

“Absolutely not!” Dean says with finality, “ _I_ am ruler of this realm. I am not giving it up simply because you feel it is warranted to you.”

“But it is!” Emma’s voice rises to a breathy screech, “It is owed to me! It has been foretold! I am a your daughter, your blood runs within me and I deserve the realm in your place!”

“You deserve nothing!” Sam barks, rising to his feet, “You are no family of ours and we owe you noth-” Sam is suddenly choking, gasping and clawing at his neck. Emma holds a hand out in front of her, fist slowly clenching.

“Do not insult, Samael. I am more powerful than you can possibly know.” She closes her fist until her nails are digging into her palm, “I found a land of lost souls and turned them into a cunning regiment. Do not-”   
“Sam!” Jessa is flying down the stairs toward Sam before Castiel can stop her.

“Jessa, no!” Castiel calls out, scrambling after her. All eyes are on them as Jessa runs to Sam, throwing her arms around him, tears running down her face. Sam stares at her with panicked, dark eyes, clutching at his throat. Castiel watches in horror as they sink to the floor.

“Oh look, the Fae,” Emma says sweetly before turning to Castiel. “And who do have we here?” She flicks her wrist and Sam gasps in a lungful of air, coughing and sputtering.

Emma’s nostrils flare just barely as she sniffs at the air. A wry smile play upon her lips.

“A mortal,” she murmurs, “I thought the air smelled… Different.” Castiel feels frozen to the spot as Emma approaches him. Her eyes are a deep, ruby hue with shining emeralds of green scrutinizing his every move. She draws a delicate finger across his chin.

“He’s pretty,” she says. “Is he one of your, Samael?” Sam stares at her, chest still heaving as Jessa clings to him. Castiel glances at Dean for a brief moment, silently pleading for help. Emma’s catches the look and her whole face brightens with realization.

“Oh,” she coos. “The mortal belongs to you then, Father?” Dean’s jaw clenches as Emma grabs Castiel by the chin and forcefully tilts his head to the side.

“Cas is a guest here. He belongs to no one,” Dean answers stiffly. Emma tuts her tongue.

“Cas. That must be your name,” she mumbles, examining his features, “Do not lie to me, Father. You stink of him.” Castiel shivers as she runs a hand through the thick of his hair.

“Have you bonded with him, yet?” .he asks. “Clearly no, otherwise you would have already defended what is yours.” She huffs a small laugh and continues to pet his hair. Her touch is gentle, but Castiel can’t seem to contain the tension running through him.

“Leave him be,” Dean says sternly, his anger bubbling just beneath the surface. Emma gives him a look of mock innocence.

“Oh, clearly you want to bond with him,” she says, “But I think I like this one.” Her hand suddenly tightens in his hair painfully and she pulls Castiel to his knees.

“Emma, don’t!” Dean barks.

“I’ll make you a deal, Father,” Emma crimson eyes are alight with fervor. “I’ll take my leave of the realm… in trade for the mortal.” She smiles maliciously and presses her lips against Castiel’s ear.

“I’ve never had mortal before,” she hisses. “Tell me, would you prefer to be boiled, roasted or eaten raw?” Castiel makes a fearful, broken noise. Emma presses closer when suddenly there is a gust of air and her body flies across the room, hitting the wall with a thud.

“Leave him be!” Dean bellows. His dark eyes are fierce and and vengeful. He drops his furs to the floor and crosses the room to where Emma is slowly righting herself.

“You want the realm, you must fight me for it,” Dean mutters between clenched teeth. Emma smirks at him and rolls her shoulders back.

“Very well.” She thrusts out a hand and Dean is shot back into the table with a shock. Castiel crouches down and crawls toward Jessa who is huddling against the opposite wall. Sam and Hobb rush toward Dean.

“No!” he shouts. “I shall fight her myself!” Dean inhales deeply and readies his stance. He exhales, spitting a blast of fire in Emma’s direction. She dives to avoid the burst of flame and sends a pulse of energy, knocking Dean off of his feet.

“Your magic is no where near as strong as mine, Father,” she chides. She stands and wraps her hands around one another, building the force of her magic.

“I’m a hunter. I don’t need magic.” Dean swiftly pulls a dagger from his waist and flings it in her direction. Emma screams and clutches at her arm, bright red blooming beneath her fingers. Dean takes advantage of her distraction, zipping a bolt of energy her way and knocking her against a bookshelf. He draws his sword and goes in for an attack. Emma sends out a quick pulse from her fingertips, sending a shockwave through Dean. It’s enough to make him stagger but not retreat. He regains his footing and advances on her. She clutches at his forearm holding back his blade. Her grip tightens and Dean is forced to drop it. A wicked laugh rises from within her.

“Take comfort,” she whispers. “I shall kill you quick.”

“Dean!” There is a shout from across the room and Castiel throws Sam’s sword in his direction. With his free hand, Dean catches the blade and quickly brings it up, knocking the hilt against Emma’s temple sending her reeling and loosening her grip. Dean takes the opportunity and grabs her by the hair, holding the blade tight against her throat. Emma stares back at him with calm, clear eyes. They stand frozen in place, unflinching.

“Mercy,” Emma whispers. Dean gazes down at her, familiar green gazing back. He pulls the blade away from her neck and relaxes his grip on her. Emma slumps back to the floor.

“Go,” Dean orders. “Leave this realm. Do not return.” His words are hard and final. Emma gingerly rises to her feet and solemnly nods her head. Dean hands the blade back to Sam as he approaches them.

“Hobb,” Dean calls out, “I want you and Ellyn to escort Emma to the edge of the realm. Make sure she leaves. If she tries anything, you are free to reciprocate”

“You do not trust me-” Emma starts, but is cut off by Dean’s icy glare.

“Yes, Dean,” Hobb answers. He disappears through the door to find Ellyn. 

“I have granted you a reprieve for your actions,” Dean says, turning to Emma. “Do not make me regret my decision.” Emma stares at him and nods stiffly as Hobb and Elly return to the room. Hobb grasps her arm and they lead her away. As soon as they are left alone, Sam rushes to Jessa, scooping a sobbing Fae into his arms. Dean rushes to Castiel, who has slumped into a nearby chair.

“Are you alright, Cas?” he asks, kneeling down and cupping his face in his hand. Castiel nods tightly and looks at Dean with watery eyes. He lets his forehead falls against Dean’s and feels strong arms wrap around him.

“I am so sorry, Cas,” Dean says in an ardent whisper. “If I had known-”

“It was my fault,” Castiel says in a stilted tone.

“No, it’s not,” Dean says. He pulls away and hold Castiel’s face in his hands, “I should never have brought her inside. There was too much to lose.”

“Dean…” Castiel tries to cut him off.

“If I had known she would go after you like that…” Dean trails off and runs a hand through his hair. “I was foolish to believe she wouldn’t. Unpredictable, as you say.” He gives Castiel a wan smile.

“Why did you not kill her, Dean?” Sam says as he helps Jessa to her feet. His expression is accusing. Dean contemplates his brother for a moment and sighs.

“I have no doubt that Emma’s army was under orders to attack if she did not return and they are nothing if not loyal to their mistress.” Dean gets to his feet and helps Castiel up as well.

“Now, Emma knows what kind of power we wield and can order her army to withdraw,” Dean says as he rights some of the upturned furniture in the room. “Furthermore, to not grant a request of mercy at the moment of death is monstrous.” Dean looks away, lost somewhere in his mind, before turning back to Sam.

“Take Jessa back to your chambers and care for her,” he offers softly. “I have something to show Cas.” Sam nods and leads Jessa up the stairs to the corridor. Dean glances at Castiel and smiles, offering his hand.

“Come,” he says as Castiel slips their fingers together. “There is something you must see.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](http://powerfulweak.tumblr.com/) because of course I am


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... And I have changed the rating. We're are now entering NSFW territory.
> 
> Thank you to [Diminuel (Steffi)](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/) for her art.

The silence hangs heavy between them as they walk through the forest. Dean’s brow is drawn tight and he looks deep in thought. Castiel is unwilling to interrupt him, but he is aching to break the tension. Since they’d left the fortress, only the barest of conversation has passed between them.

Castiel tugs at the front of his tunic, pulling it away from his damp skin and attempting to cool off.

“It’s hot out here,” Castiel murmurs, receiving only a hum from Dean in response. He is focused on the path, navigating between twisting roots and fallen branches, “uh, Dean, can I ask where we’re going?” Dean looks back at him. Castiel breathes a small sigh of relief that his gaze is calm, not upset or angry as he had expected.

”You can.” Dean responds. Castiel waits for Dean to say more.

“Are… are you going to tell me?” he asks.

“I shall not,” Dean says, shooting Castiel an unexpected cheeky look, “Not until we arrive.” He takes Castiel’s hands and helps him over a ridge of large stones.

“Um, Dean,” Castiel pipes up hesitantly, “Can I ask another question?”

“Of course, Cas.”

“Why is everyone trying to eat me?” Dean stops and turns back to Castiel, concern evident on his face.

“Eat you?” he asks.

“Emma said she was going roast me,” Dean’s features grow dark, hurt and ashamed at the memory, “And Gabriel…”

“Gabriel?! You’ve met Gabriel?” Dean’s expression changes to surprise and anger.

“Yes, last night. He appeared in your room,” Castiel says. Dean growls in anger and turns back to the path.

“That pest! If he comes near you, I will flay him where he stands!” Castiel’s eyes go wide.

“He didn’t do anything, Dean,” he offers quickly. Dean turns back to Castiel.

“He is a menace and a thorn in my side!” Dean hisses, dark eyes fiery, “I would have dispatched him long ago, but Sam is fond of him for some absurd reason.” Dean tromps on and Castiel hurries close behind.

“Honestly, he didn’t seem all that dangerous,” Castiel calls after Dean as they push aside the branches of a wayward bush. Dean chuckles mirthlessly.

“Do not be so sure,” He says, looking back at Castiel. “He is a sprite. Sprites are by nature dangerous. They can change things, manipulate them. You think you are eating an apple, but it is a raw potato. They will lock you in a room and then make the door disappear. They will appear-”

“Wherever their name is said,” a small voice finishes, sitting in the path in front of them. Castiel and Dean both jump in surprise and Gabriel cackles with hysterical laughter. Dean is instantly livid.

“You!” he barks. He reaches to get hold of him, but Gabriel dodges his grasp.

“Oh, Deano, I am only having fun. Do not be so sour,” He turns his attention to Castiel and smiles broadly, “Hello, Mortal.”

“Do not speak to Cas after the threats you have made on him,” Dean says lowly. Gabriel rolls his eyes and quickly swings onto a low-hanging tree branch, seating himself with his legs dangling loosely.

“I mean nothing by it,” he says with an affected pout, “And I gave my word to Sam that I would not hurt your pet.”

“Cas is not a pet! He is my guest!”

“I am in the house constantly. Yet you never call me a guest!” Gabriel says, holding a hand to his chest with feigned offense. Dean takes a step toward the tree and shoots him an artificial smile.

“You are a pest of the house.” Dean mutters, “I should have turned you into a rat centuries ago.” Gabriel leans back and gives Dean a wry look.

“Sprite magic versus Protector magic. I wonder who will win?” Gabriel winks at him as Dean takes a quick step forward and reaches for him, hands instead closing around a squawking, flapping crow. He yelps in surprise as the birds wings flail frantically. Gabriel’s laugh echoes through the trees as his vanishes.

Castiel stifles a giggle when Dean finally release the bird, who hops onto a higher branch on the tree, cawing down at Dean.

“My apologies,” Dean calls up to it. He turns back to Castiel as he brushes a few stray dark feathers from his shoulder

“He is exasperating,” Dean huffs as a faint blush rises to his cheeks in embarrassment. Castiel watches this and finds in impossibly endearing.

“I can see why Sam likes him,” Castiel offers, earning a raised eyebrow from Dean. “He is charming in his own sort of way.” Dean shakes his head warmly and takes Castiel’s hand in his own, leading him down the path.

It isn’t much longer before the forest gives way to another clearing. Castiel’s eyes go wide at the sight: a massive willow tree towering above a placid lake. The afternoon sun glitters across the water, sending shimmering reflections in every direction.

“Wow,” Castiel breathes, “What is this place?” Dean says nothing but gives Castiel a soft smile in response, pulling him toward the willow. Beneath the massive tree sits a circle of smooth white river stone embedded in the grass. Dean drops to one knee just outside of the edge of the circle and Castiel follows suit.

“Cas,” Dean’s voice is low and rough, “This is my mother.” Castiel inhales sharply, eyes widening in surprise.

“Dean…” he starts, but any words of comfort or assistance die in his throat. Dean clears his throat and looks away, his expression far more serious than before.

“Cas, I want you to know I do not take Emma’s threat against you lightly,” His words are calm and deliberate. “When she had hold of you, I was ready to rend her head from her body.” He pauses momentarily, biting nervously at her lip.

“I meant what I said. You are a guest here. You deserve the highest honor that can be bestowed, but I cannot say that I don’t…” he hesitates, biting at his lip, “to say that you do not belong to anyone feels untrue.” Dean catches Castiel’s eye for a brief moment before once again focusing on the stones.

“I hope you won’t take it as a slight against you that I did not dole out a fitting punishment for Emma,” Dean says apologetically. A look of confusion crosses Castiel’s face.

“Dean, I’m not… I’m not mad at you,” Castiel offers, “I mean, she’s your daughter. I would not expect you to kill her over an insult.” He huffs a small laugh, attempting to lighten the mood, but Dean’s stony expression doesn’t falter.

“That is not why I spared her life,” he mumbles. His hands brush lightly over one of the stones, “I remember the attack on our home, when the villagers came after my mother. I was a small child, and it was long ago, but the memory is very vivid.” He pauses as the memory surfaces in his mind. Castiel reaches out and takes Dean’s hand in his, receiving a warm squeeze in response.

“I recall the sounds most clearly: Sam wailing in my arms, the crackle of the fire eating away at our home and my mother…” Dean swallows hard, “My mother begging for mercy, pleading to spare us, and having it all fall on deaf ears.” Dean looks out across the lake, his eyes watery pools of ink. Castiel exhales softly as he processes this information.

“I never refuse a plea for mercy, no matter the adversary.” There is deep conviction in Dean’s voice. “Please understand, Cas.” His words come out almost as an apology. Castiel takes Dean’s large hand in both of his and smooths his thumbs over it. The memory of Dean’s face as he held the blade to Emma’s throat becomes clearer, as does a new detail.

“Sam doesn’t know this,” Castiel says. It’s not a question, but an observation. Dean shakes his head and smiles sadly.

“He was but an infant, and I am thankful he has no memory of that night. It is a burden I would not wish on anyone,” Dean says. “He knows I have a reasons for my actions, but at times he thinks they are foolish or imprudent.” They sit in silence for a long while. Castiel lets his head fall onto Dean’s shoulder. He thinks of Dean saying how he would woo him and Castiel laughs lightly to himself.

“You are amused, Cas?” Dean asks, glancing down at him.

“It’s nothing just, uh…” Castiel runs a hand through his hair nervously, “your wooing methods are very successful.” Dean leans back and considers Castiel, mouth twisted in a wry smirk.

“I did not plan on wooing you with melancholy.” Dean rises to his feet, pulling Castiel up by the with him, “Come, it is a beautiful day.” He leads Castiel to the edge of the lake, dropping his furs onto the silty earth. He unhooks the leather belt from his midsection, letting that fall to the ground, followed by his tunic.

“What… What are you doing, Dean?” Castiel asks, a little nervously. Dean drops to the ground and begins pulling off his boots.

“Going for a swim,” Dean answers with a grunt, as he tugs off the left boot, “The water should be perfect.” He removes the second boot and sets them aside his other clothes. He stands and hooks both thumbs into the hem of his trousers, tugging them down in a single movement and revealing his entire, naked glory.

Castiel is struck silent. Dean, understandably, has the body of a god, and apparently the _equipment_ of one as well. Castiel can’t seem to draw his eyes away from it and can practically hear Balthazar in his head calling him a ‘ _Size Queen_ ’. Dean notices his very evident staring and laughs shyly.

“I have been told before that it is… uh, quite large,” Dean says with more than a bit of false modesty.

“Yup,” Castiel says, in a voice a pitch too high. Dean walks to the edge of the lake and Castiel gets an eyeful of Dean’s flawless ass dotted with a sea of freckles. He dives into the water with a soft splash, emerging a moment later and pushing dripping hair from his forehead.

“Please Cas,” he calls out, “join me.” Castiel makes quick work of removing his clothes, more than a little embarrassed that he’s not as well-endowed or have as round of a behind.

He wades into the water slowly, skin prickling with the coolness of it. Dean swims forward and reaches for his hands, pulling him deeper into the lake. They cut through the water, fingers linked together. Castiel can feel the soft bottom of the lake barely touching his feet and treads the water to keep his head above it.

“This is my favorite place,” Dean says breaking the silence around them. “When we were young, Sam and I would explore the forest and then escape here until Ellyn came searching for us.” He lays back and drifts over the surface. Castiel sidestrokes toward him.

“Ellyn has been here a long time, then?”

“As long as I have,” Dean offers. He looks at Castiel coyly before diving backward into the water.

“Dean?” Castiel murmurs as he tries to search beneath the muddy surface. He takes a tentative step when there is a abrupt rush of movement beneath him as Dean emerges from the water, pushing Castiel off of his shoulders.

Castiel flails uselessly before landing gracelessly into the lake. He emerges laughing with wet hair matted to his forehead.

“Assbutt!” He cackles, splashing water in Dean’s direction. Dean laughs loudly as he wipes droplets from his face.

“Oh, do not trifle with me Cas!” He warns playfully, sending a burst of energy from his palm and a deluge of water toward Castiel.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Castiel sputters, trying to clear water from his face, “I don’t have magic!” It comes out whinier than he would’ve liked.

“I beg to differ,” Dean chuckles affectionately, “For you have bewitched _me_.” Castiel looks away shyly at the sly remark. He drops beneath the surface of the water and emerges with Dean’s face only a few inches from his own.

“So have you,” he mumbles.

There is something so mesmerizing about the sight. He regards a single drop of water falling from a strand of Dean’s hair, over the hill of his cheekbone and down his chin. The sun glints over the ripples of the water, sending refractions up over the surface of Dean’s face. Droplets hang heavy from his long eyelashes. Without thinking, Castiel reaches up and chases it away with a fingertip, his eyes fluttering involuntarily.

Dean looks up and stares deeply into Castiel’s eyes. He’s unsure if it’s just the reflections from the water, but Dean’s gaze seems to hold swirling galaxies within them. The wide green centers have intricate patterns and shades mingling within them.

“Cas,” the words leave Dean’s mouth as softly as a prayer and it is all Castiel can take. His lips crash against Dean’s. He tastes like fresh water and salt and Castiel finds himself instantly addicted to it. The warmth of Dean is so inviting and he whimpers at the way their tongues move over each other.  

Dean winds his arms around Castiel’s waist and pulls him in closer. He cants his hips upward slightly, his hardening shaft pressing against Dean’s deliciously. A growl rises from within Dean’s throat. He pulls back from the kiss and latches on Castiel’s neck, nipping hungrily at the soft skin. Castiel can feel Dean’s hands moving south, grasping at the meat of his thighs. On cue, Castiel lifts his legs and wraps them around Dean’s waist.

He is only vaguely aware that they are moving quickly through the water toward the edge of the lake. Dean mouths along the edge of his jaw and Castiel extends his neck to allow him further access. Cool air hits bare skin as they begin to emerge from the water. Castiel shivers and presses himself closer into Dean, searching for the heat of his body.

Dean pulls him into another frantic kiss as he places Castiel carefully onto the damp earth. Their legs slot together perfectly and Castiel winds his hands through Dean’s hair. The feeling of Dean’s cock being pressed against his own is sensory overload and Castiel can’t control his broken moans.

“Cas,” Dean breathes against his mouth. Castiel presses himself up, searching for more friction. Dean gasps as his hands move up to his shoulders.

“Cas!” Dean says in warning. Castiel looks up at Dean, the grassy centers of his eyes lust blown and fevered.

“I want you,” Castiel murmurs, pressing his mouth forward in a trembling kiss. He snakes a hand between them and takes hold of Dean’s and his own hardened members. Dean cries out softly at the touch. Castiel works his hand smoothly over the two of them, struggling to keep his fist wrapped around Dean’s impressive cock.

They lay there, artlessly rutting in the muddy sand, breathing each other's air. Dean presses his forehead into Castiel’s shoulder, erratic breathing only interrupted by gasp of Castiel’s name.

“Fuck!” Castiel groans as he feels Dean’s hand join his own. Their fingers link together as they work over their cocks, chasing their orgasms.

Dean finishes first, thick ropes of come spraying over Castiel’s stomach and sliding down into his palm. The heat of Dean’s release tips him over the edge as Castiel comes with a curse loud enough to send birds scattering from the trees above them.

Dean slumps over him, chest heaving. Castiel presses his face into the crook of Dean’s neck as the buzz of his climax dissipates. He pets a hand through Dean’s hair, fingernails scraping against his scalp. Dean’s breath hitches in response and he pushes himself up onto his forearms over Castiel.

They stare at eachother for a long moment. Dean’s lips are parted, but he says nothing, a look of sheer awe crossing his features.

“What?” Castiel says, laughing a little nervously. Dean brushes a stray piece of damp hair off of Castiel’s forehead.

“You are extraordinary, Cas,” Dean answers softly, “Quite extraordinary, indeed.” Castiel can feel his face heating beneath Dean’s focused stare. Dean tips Castiel’s chin up and kisses him softly.

“Now _that_ is some A-plus wooing,” Castiel smiles into the kiss, giggling softly. He brings his arms around Dean’s neck and pulls himself in tighter.

 

_Art by[Dimiuel](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/), used with permission_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](http://powerfulweak.tumblr.com/)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of tonight, this is my only WIP and I plan on keeping it that way until it's finished. Fingers crossed, I'll have updates out on a more regular basis.  
> Thank you everyone for reading and commenting. I love your responses to this fic.   
> Just a quick note: It might not be apparent in the story yet, but this is a top!Dean/bottom!Castiel fic.

In his normal life, Castiel can’t  afford a vacation, either financially or timewise. His days are spent drawing up lesson plans, tasking his TAs, listening to his grad students and providing feedback, and trying to get his own papers published. Everything is carefully scheduled and planned with little room for error or alteration, and Castiel is fine with that. He figures that once he gets tenure things might slow down a little (although realistically, Castiel knows that’s highly unlikely).

It’s not like he has anyone to visit anyway. He’s an only child with no real extended family. His father passed away two years prior and his fundamentalist mother quit speaking to him when he decided he wanted to study “that devil worship”, as she so colorfully put it. It wasn’t a terrible loss for Castiel; she probably would have disowned him anyway when she discovered he was gay.

He could have seen the world, as Balthazar always harangues him about, but Castiel always dismisses him with an excuse of it being expensive or unnecessary. When it come right down to it, Castiel doesn't _do_ a lot of relaxing.

In spite of all his excuses, though, Castiel found that he’s enjoying his retreat into Dean’s world. It’s the most relaxed he’s been in… well, ever.

He has spent the last week delving into Sam’s collection of books, dissecting the texts and making short notes in the margins. After a couple days of being cooped up inside the walls of the fortress, he’d ventured out, finding a grassy spot a short distance away nestled beneath a towering oak.

He rubs his eyes furiously. They are sore from hours of reading, poring over the once illegible words of the book in front of him. He lets his head rest against the rough bark of the tree, eyes heavy and exhausted, as the sun pours over him through the leaves.

“Cas?,” a soft voice calls out as Jessa appears out of the foliage. Castiel sits up straighter, closing the book at her arrival.

“Hello, Jessa,” he says. She is carrying a small wrapped bundle in her arms.

“I brought food,” she offers, settling down beside him. “I worried you may be hungry,” Castiel perks up as she hands him the bundle. He opens it to reveal a loaf of dark bread, a sweet smelling pot of what he thinks might be jam, and some type of dried meat.

“This looks wonderful, Jessa, thank you,” He says, tearing away a hunk of the bread. He dips the piece into the pot, taking a bite of the spread. Castiel hums happily as he chews.

“Would you like some?” He offers. She shakes her head and rubs at her stomach.

“No, thank you,” she says, “I have been ill all morning. I haven’t been able to hold nearly anything down for too long.”

“You’re sick?” Castiel asks with a frown as he takes another bite from the bread. Jessa laughs shyly.

“I am with child,” she says quietly. Castiel’s eyes widen and he swallows his mouthful.

“W-wow, Congratulations,” he sputters. “ Um, Does Sam know?”

“Of course,” she giggles. There is a rustle of branches and leaves, and Jessa drops her voice low, “but Dean does not.” She holds her finger to her lips conspiratorially as Dean breaks through the foliage. Jessa rises to her feet at his entrance.

“Good day, Dean,” she greets.

“Good day, Jess, Cas,” he says jovially, “How goes?”

“Jessa brought me lunch,” Castiel says, motioning to the bundle beside him. Dean nods as he settles into the spot next to Castiel. He places a hand on Castiel’s face, tipping up his chin just enough to plant a soft kiss on his lips. Jessa turns her head from the intimate moment.

“I should return to Sam,” Jessa says and without another word, disappears between the trees.

“I think we embarrassed her,” Castiel says sheepishly, earning a snort from Dean.

“I have been privy to many moments far more intimate between her and my brother,” Dean says, plucking a piece of grass from his furs.

“So this is payback then?” Castiel asks ruefully, offering a bit of dried meat to Dean, who shrugs non-committally at the assumption. He settles back against the tree and pulls Castiel in between his legs. Castiel pushes the book aside and leans back against Dean, sinking into the comfort of his form. They sit there for a long while as Dean eats bites of bread and jam from Castiel’s fingers. He strokes his hand along the exposed skin of Castiel’s arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. Castiel dozes easily in the warmth of the sun.

“Cas?” Dean asks softly, receiving a sleepy hum in response, “would you like me to show you the hunt.” Castiel opens his eyes and sits up, glancing back at Dean.

“Hunting?” He asks. Dean nods readily. Castiel grimaces and rubs at his neck.

“Dean, please don’t take this personally,” Castiel says, “but I kind of have an issue with killing animals for sport.” Dean considers him, his head tilted curiously.

“Then we shant kill,” Dean says with a smirk.

***

They pad quietly through the brush of the forest. Castiel flinches at every twig-snap and crackle of leaves, paying particular attention to Dean’s instruction to be as quiet as possible.

“Breathe, Cas,” Dean chides lightly. Castiel exhales heavily, realizing he has been holding his breath for a strangely long time. Dean reaches back and takes Castiel’s hand in his, winding their fingers together. His other hand grips the large wooden bow tightly. A quiver of arrows thumps softly against his back as they walk.

“So what are we doing?” Castiel mumbles close to Dean’s ear.

“Tracking,” Dean says, eyes scanning the expanse. He pauses and holds up a hand, signaling for Castiel to stop. His nose twitches and he inhales deeply.

“Come, Cas,” Dean makes a left turn toward an enormous tree. Castiel follows, trying to match his steps with Dean’s. They crouch down beside the tree, a large bush obscuring their forms from the path. Dean leans the bow against the trunk of the tree.

“It’s very important to remain still.” Dean instructs, Dean lifts off his haunches just enough to peer over the bush. He looks back, points to his eyes with two fingers and then points at Castiel. Castiel rises up and looks over the bush where a large buck has its back to them. The buck walks stiffly through the brush, dipping down every so often to pick at a piece of grass or nibble at a branch full of berries.

Castiel’s face lights up. Save for a handful of trips to the zoo as a child, he’s never been so close to a wild animal before. He holds his breath without thinking. The deer’s head perks up at some unheard noise and instantly it is sprinting through the wood.

“Wow,” Castiel breathes, mouth still drawn in a wondrous smile.

“There,” Dean says squeezing his hand, “your first hunt.”

“But we didn’t kill anything,” Castiel says, looking at Dean dubiously. Dean shrugs and stands to his full height.

“You were not interested in killing,” Dean clarifies, “and we were not in need.”

“So what was the point?” Castiel asks, standing and dusting off his knees.

“Sport,” Dean offers, “and to show you the hunt.” Castiel squints at Dean, smiling curiously.

“So if you were actually going to hunt something, how would you have done it?” Dean grins and his eyes seem to alight. He reaches behind his back, pulling an arrow from the quiver and reaches down for his bow.  

“Well, I take the arrow and set it,” he grips the bow is his right hand and sets the notch of the arrow on the string, carefully holding it in place with three fingers. “Carefully draw the bow, for the deer can easily sense danger,” and in one fluid motion, he raises the bow and draws back the string. The edge of his cape is kicked up over his shoulder and the tension of his muscles is visible beneath the thin fabric of his tunic.

“Sight my target, and… release.” Dean’s fingers just barely move and the arrow cuts through the air, burying itself in a tree roughly 30 meters from where they stand. Dean holds his stance for a moment before relaxing.

“Whoa,” Castiel says softly.

“Would you like to try, Cas?” He stares down at the bow Dean offers in his direction. He gingerly grasps it, surprised by the weight of it. Dean plucks another arrow from the quiver.

“Be mindful of the tip,” he says. Castiel tries to mimic Dean’s earlier actions, but the bow is weighty and awkward in his hold and the arrow keeps slipping to the side. He can see Dean biting at his lip, hiding an amused smirk, and glowers at him.

“I… I’m just not getting this,” Castiel stammers, handing the bow and arrow back to Dean. Dean moves toward him.

“May I assist?” he asks, coming around Castiel’s side. He moves his hands over Castiel’s arms, gently repositioning them. He places a large, warm palm over Castiel’s grip of the bow. Castiel slips the notch of the arrow over the string. The tip of the arrow rolls over the hand holding the bow.

“Let it rest here, Cas,” Dean says, tapping the indent in the center of the bow. His lips graze over Castiel’s ear, making it very difficult to concentrate on the bow in his hand. Dean presses himself against Castiel’s back and adjusts his hold on the arrow over the string.

“Now when you raise it up,” Dean instructs, “let your arm fall back as well.” Castiel does as he’s told, following Dean’s movements. Dean presses his shoulder down slightly and his elbow in.

“Keep your bow arm strong and when you’re ready… release.” Castiel extends his fingers and the arrow flies askew into the thick of the woods. His shoulders slump in disappointment. Dean nuzzles the soft skin of Castiel’s neck and plants a kiss below his jaw.

“Do not fret, Cas,” he murmurs, slipping a hand from the bow and over Castiel’s stomach, “You shall be an able marksman soon.” Dean pulls him in tighter. Castiel gasps at the feeling of Dean’s hardening shaft pressing into his backside. He turns his head, capturing Dean’s lips. The bow drops to the ground, instantly forgotten, as his hands fly into Dean’s hair. He shifts to face him, deepening the kiss. Dean’s hand slip down to Castiel’s thigh, grabbing it roughly and pulling him forward. Castiel groans as their cocks slot next to each other, even through layers of fabric. He nips at Dean’s bottom lip playfully, drawing back from the kiss. Dean grins and begins running his teeth over Castiel’s jaw and neck, laying a path of bruises in his wake.

“Dean,” Castiel whispers, “touch me, please.” His voice comes out thin and earnest but he doesn’t care. Dean groans and raises his head, kissing Castiel passionately once again.

“I want to do so much more than that, Cas,” Dean breathes against his mouth. Castiel closes his eyes as a surge of arousal shoots up his spine.

“Than do it,” he says, lifting his gaze and looking deeply into Dean’s dark eyes. Dean hands fly to the edge of Castiel’s trousers, pulling frantically at the tie. It’s a little painful as he tugs at the fabric, but Castiel can’t find it in himself to care when his swollen cock is finally released. He hums as Dean wraps his hand around it, thumb flicking over the tip and spreading percome down the shaft.

Abruptly, he sinks to the ground, pulling Castiel with him until he falls on his ass onto the soft forest floor. Castiel is caught off guard as Dean swallows him down without warning. Castiel throws his head back, knocking against the oak tree painfully, but too distracted to care. He glances down to see emerald pupils in pools of black looking back at him in a heated gaze. Dean slides his tongue over the vein on the underside of his shaft and Castiel’s moan echos through the trees. Dean pulls off with a lewd pop.

“It is better we are not hunting,” Dean says with a chuckle, “You’ve scared away every creature for miles.”

“Shut up and blow me!” Castiel gasps with a mixture of frustration and lust. Dean laughs lightly but does as he is told and once again swallows Castiel down. He runs his hands through Dean’s hair, pulling at it roughly and earning a moan from the other man.

“That’s it Dean,” Castiel encourages, head leaning back against the tree, “I’m so close.” Castiel wants to wonder how an ancient deity became seemingly an expert on blow jobs, but all thought flies out of his head as Dean drags the head of his cock along the roof of his mouth, sucking him down tightly as he does.

Castiel is too distracted to even give Dean a warning as he climaxes, but it doesn’t slow him down. Dean milks him through his orgasm, Castiel twitching blissfully above him.

Castiel’s chest rises and falls heavily as Dean meets him in a kiss. He can taste his own come on Dean’s tongue and the hotness of it rips a moan from deep inside him.

“Was that good?” Dean asks shyly and Castiel can only laugh in response.

“You’re amazing, Dean,” he says, pulling Dean in for a kiss once more. They lay there for a long while, kissing softly and dozing against the tree. Castiel lets his mind clear as he settles against Dean. His time here has been so wonderful in so many ways: studying the books with Sam and Hobb, discussing philosophy with Ellyn, asking questions of Jessa.

And of course, Dean.

Castiel smiles and looks up at him warmly.

“We better get going before Sam sends a search party,” he says, a little sadly. Dean sighs and nods, rising to his feet and helping Castiel up as well. He adjusts his trousers as Dean grabs his bow.

“I shall find my arrows,” Dean says, “then we shall return to the fortress.” He leans down and pecks Castiel on the lips and trudges on through the brush. Castiel leans against the oak and closes his eyes, enjoying the sun trickling in through the trees.

High above him, calculating eyes watch him carefully.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verse based on [Steffi's](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/tagged/Pagan-Gods-Verse) ([Sillyblue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue)) lovely artwork.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 2-for-1 day! 2 chapters at once, you lucky so-and-so's!

A fine cloud of flour puffs into the air as Castiel slaps the soft dough onto the table. He attempts to flatten out the dough with his fingers for the sixth time, wishing he had a rolling pin or even an empty bottle instead. He tries to remember if repeated rollings makes the dough more tender or tougher. Bits of flour cover every flat surface of the kitchen. It clings to his hair and the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Castiel sighs in frustration and lets his head fall into his palms, grinding flour deeper into his skin. There is a vague scent of burning spices in the air and Castiel cringes at the thought of what the filling looks (or god forbid) tastes like.

He had found the apple tree on the Eastern edge of the woods while he and Dean were tracking quail. He hadn’t forgotten about Dean’s glee over the pie, or the way he gushed about it to everyone in the house. Castiel had seen pie made before, it didn’t seem like a particularly complicated process.

That was a miscalculation.

He hadn’t thought of how there might be differences between a modern kitchen and one only equipped with a wood-burning oven. Nor had he taken into consideration how they might not have the ingredients necessary like, say, sugar. Or pasteurized butter. Or cinnamon.

Castiel had improvised the best he could with Jessa’s assistance, however the task seemed to be growing more difficult with each ingredient. He can see that maybe he has bitten off much more than he could chew.

“Mortal?” A small voice speaks behind him. Castiel turns to see Gabriel leaning against the wall, giving Castiel a curious eye.

“Hello, Gabriel,” he sighs, trying to dust some of the flour off of himself. Gabriel leans closer and eyes him up and down.

“What are you doing?” He says.

“I am… I was trying to make a pie,” he replies, brushing a hand through his unkempt hair and causing another cloud of flour to rise from it. “For Dean,” he emphasizes. Gabriel sniffs at the air, grimacing.

“It smells of spice,” he says, “sweet.” Castiel flicks his head toward a small bubbling pot on the stove.

“The filling,” he answers despondently, “it’s apples.” Gabriel’s eyes light up and he approaches the roiling mixture. He picks up the wooden spoon from beside it and dips it into the pot. He glances at Castiel with large eyes, looking for permission. Castiel waves him on and he gingerly tastes the mixture.

Gabriel gags loudly and throws the spoon against the back wall.

“Ack!” he yells, furiously trying to brush off his tongue with his hands. Castiel slumps and gives him a withering look.

“That bad, huh?” he asks flopping into a nearby chair.

“Bitter,” Gabriel croaks. Castiel shakes his head  and rubs his eyes.

“I doubt the crust will be any better,” he says, completely dejected. Gabriel spits the last of the taste into the corner and glances at Castiel. He hums thoughtfully before snapping his fingers and disappearing.

“Great,” Castiel sighs sarcastically. He scratches his hands through his scalp and huffs in frustration. He rises from the chair and walks back to the table where the offending pie crust  dough seems to mock him.

“Easy as pie, my ass,” Castiel mutters to himself as he mashes the dough into a ball he might be able to pound his frustration into.

Gabriel suddenly snaps back into the room, coated up to his elbows and holding a fresh honeycomb in his hand. The sweet liquid drips onto the floor and a couple bees swarm around him heatedly.

“Here,” Gabriel says, dropping the sticky object into Castiel’s hands, “that should improve it.” He immediately blinks away, leaving a tacky mess on the floor and a few confused bees.

Castiel tentatively dips a finger in the honey and brings it to his lips. He makes an appreciative noise. It’s sweet but not overpowering. If nothing else, it can’t hurt. He holds the comb over the stewing apples, picking at each crevice and letting the golden liquid flow into the mix.

Castiel examines his ingredients on the counter, wondering if he might still have enough for another attempt at the crust. He sighs when he spots the nearly empty crock of butter. Guess tough crust it is.

He picks the spoon up off the floor, wiping it on the edge of his tunic. He figures it will be just as clean this way as dipping it in a bucket of well water would be. He stirs the apples and brings the spoon to his lips hesitantly, tasting the mixture. He cringes; it’s heavy on the clove and anise and it gives the apples a strange flavor. The honey seems to compliment the ginger and, while not a particularly good pie filling, it’s edible. Castiel bobs his head and continues his work, hoping that Dean might like it

 

***

 

Castiel was carefully trying to pull the pie out of the oven, when the sound of Dean’s footsteps echoed through the hall.

“Cas?” Dean calls out. “What is going on here?” Castiel’s head perks up, surprised by the sudden intrusion. Dean is wonderfully flushed from being in the sun. The freckles across the bridge of his nose seem darker and a fine layer of sweat clings to his hair. He has a pair of rabbits gripped in his fist, which he gently lays at the opposite end of the table.

“Uh… I’m cooking?” Castiel says hesitantly as he wraps toweled hands around the clay dish in the oven. Dean’s face lights up when his eyes fall upon the pie.

“A pie!” He says in wonder, face splitting into a grin, “you made a pie.” Castiel looks away shyly, brushing his hands absently off over his clothes.

“I tried,” he says. “It won’t taste nearly as good as the first one.” Dean hums and unhooks his furs, letting them drape over a chair. He crosses the room and stands in front of Castiel, scooping his face in his hands.

Castiel’s breath catches at the look of adoration in Dean’s dark eyes. He has been in this world several weeks and he has never gotten over how Dean looks at him or how his gaze seems to follow him wherever he is in the room. Dean softly presses his lips to Castiel’s in a chaste but affectionate kiss.

“I shall be the judge of that,” he says finally and lets his hands drop. He moves toward where the pie rests on the heavy wooden table, eyeing it hungrily. Castiel can say that it at least _looks_ delicious. The crust has a fine toasted color to it, the edges just barely singed by the fire. However, the overwhelming smell of burnt honey and licorice in the air makes his stomach clench. Dean starts to reach for the dessert when Castiel grabs his hand away from it.

“Dean, it’s hot!” he warns. Dean gives him a patient smile.

“I do not fear a bit of heat,” Dean says, patting Castiel’s hand. He digs a few fingers into the hot flesh of the pie. Castiel can’t help a smug grin as Dean quietly tries to covers a hiss of pain. The filling is a deep, murky brown and is perhaps the least appetizing thing Castiel has ever seen. It has a rich, spicy aroma that Castiel most closely associates to a cigar shop.

Dean brings a bite of the pie to his mouth and chews thoughtfully. Castiel lets out a relieved breath that he didn’t gag, but his current expression isn’t too encouraging. Dean looks deep in thought, brows furrowed, and he seems to be chewing a moment too long. Castiel frowns in disappointment.

“That bad?” he asks. Dean shakes his head vigorously. He looks as if he wants to disagree, but continues to chew.

And chew.

“Dean, you can spit it out, I won’t-” Castiel receives another shake of the head as Dean persistently tries to swallow. When he finally succeeds, Dean gasps and looks at Castiel with watery eyes.

“It’s good,” he croaks, offering a weary smile. “The apples are… Crisp.”  Castiel can’t help but laugh at this blatant attempt to spare his feelings.

“They shouldn’t be,” he says, shaking his head. “You don’t have to lie if you don’t like it, Dean-”

“But I do like it,” Dean interupts, his gaze painfully sincere, “I love it. You made this gift for me and I love it very much.” He raises a palm to Castiel’s cheek and brushes a thumb across it.

“You’re just saying that,” Castiel sighs. “Look, I’ve never made a pie before. I had no idea what I was doing and I’m crap at it. It’s alright if you think it’s terrible.” Castiel turns away and leans against the table, staring at the offending pie. Dean takes a step forward, sidling up to Castiel.

“I do not speak frivolously,” he says, “I do like the pie. It is different than before, but it is quite good. The flavor is… wonderful.” Castiel raises a dubious eyebrow at Dean, whose looks back at him tenderly.

“Try some,” Dean encourages, pushing the heavy clay dish in Castiel’s direction. With a shrug, he dips a fingers into the syrup, and pops it into his lips. The flavor of anise and honey is overpowering, the apples only leaving the barest sour aftertaste to the mixture. Castiel grimaces.

“It tastes like licorice,” he says thickly. Dean huffs a small laugh.

“I believe you may be tasting it wrong,” he dips his own fingers into the mess, bring up a chunk of apple, and holds them to Castiel’s lips. “Try it now,” Castiel smiles coyly and takes Dean’s fingers into his mouth, sucking the filling and flakes of crust from them. His eyes never leave Dean’s, who own expression grows heated as Castiel wraps his tongue lasciviously around the digits. With the bits of apples, the taste is lighter, the fresh tanginess balancing the heady flavor of the spices.

Castiel lets Dean’s fingers slickly fall from his mouth and licks the remainder of the filling from his lips. Dean’s eyes follow its movements, his own mouth hanging slightly open.

“You’re right, Dean,” Castiel mumbles, taking a step closer to Dean, “It is better that way.” He dips his own fingers into the pie and before Dean can say a word, presses them into Dean’s mouth. Dean is taken aback by the intrusion for a moment, before enthusiastically sucking on Castiel’s fingers. They stand there for a long while, decimating the pie while feeding it to each other. Castiel feels Dean’s hand coming to rest on his hip as he repeatedly engulfs Castiel’s fingers. He lets his hand fall away and finds himself mesmerized by the wet mess of Dean’s mouth. He grows bold, smearing the mix across Dean’s lips and then leaning over to lick it away himself. Dean stands stock still for a moment before surging forward.

All at once, Castiel is being pressed against the table in a passionate kiss. Dean is rough and animalistic, his hands digging into Castiel’s thighs. Castiel’s nose is filled with the scent of the forest that seems to perpetually cling to Dean’s skin. Their teeth click together roughly as Dean’s tongue swipes into his mouth. Castiel gives himself over, letting Dean dominate the kiss and falling into the warmth of his embrace.

“Dean,” Castiel whimpers softly when they separate for air, “Take me to bed.” Dean’s whole body seems to slacken and he looks at Castiel, eyes large and fevered, chest heaving for air.

“Are you… are you sure?” He asks, cupping a hand over Castiel’s face. “Cas, I do not want… Please do not obligate yourself on my behalf.” Castiel places a hand over Dean’s and squeezes it tightly. When Dean had mentioned taking him as a lover initially, Castiel had been wary. A lifetime’s worth of study of the sex lives of demi gods and mythological creatures will do that.  

In the weeks he has been here though, Dean has destroyed every misconception. He was warm and patient, jovial when it was warranted with a deep well of passion within him. Castiel had a fair share of relationships, but never before did he feel so undone by a person like he has with Dean.

“I’m sure,” Castiel says quietly. The fire in Dean’s eyes flares and Castiel wants to feel it all around him. Castiel pushes himself off the table and leads the way to their chambers.

“Take me to bed,” he repeats, pulling Dean toward the doorway.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verse based on [Steffi's](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/tagged/Pagan-Gods-Verse) ([Sillyblue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue)) lovely artwork.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second chapter I posted today, so make sure to read the previous one first.  
> Also, here be smut

As eager as Dean had been during their previous encounters, Castiel was expecting a similar level of frantic energy once they’d reached the bed. Instead, he is sure Dean is trying to drive him slowly crazy. Emphasis on _slow_.

Dean carefully frees Castiel of his clothes, deliberately trailing kisses over the newly exposed flesh. Castiel writhes helplessly, biting back a giggle, as Dean’s tongue grazes the soft skin over the side of his ribs. His mouth travels carefully over Castiel’s torso until it’s hovering over a nipple, taking it in his mouth and rolling the nub in between his teeth.

“Dean!” Castiel gasps impatiently, “For God’s Sake!” Dean raises his head, giving Castiel a confused look.

“My sake? I do not understand,” he says. Castiel would laugh at Dean’s confusion, but the thick fingers running down the inside of his thighs are making it impossible for him to think clearly.

Dean tugs Castiel’s trousers down past his knees as he continues to flutter kisses over his chest and abdomen.

“Dean,” Castiel huffs again, “you don’t have to be so… so careful with me. I can take a little manhandling.” Dean crawls up over Castiel and kisses him tenderly.

“I know you can,” he murmurs into Castiel’s lips, “I have seen it, but now I wish to worship every inch of you like the sacred creature you are.” Castiel lets himself be engulfed into a heady kiss. His hands come up, cradling Dean’s head and pulling himself deeper into it. His cock bobs thickly between them and Castiel cants his hips forward, desperate for friction.

Dean responds, gripping Castiel hips and pulling him up until their bodies are flush against one another. Castiel groans into Dean’s mouth and wraps a free leg around his waist. Dean’s head falls onto Castiel’s shoulder and his own moan echoes in the cavernous space of the chamber. Dean’s teeth dig into his neck, the pain drawing a cry from Castiel.

“Are you alright?” Dean asks, pulling back to look at Castiel, his gaze worried.

“I’m fine,” Castiel says breathlessly, “it’s alright, I like it.” He gives Dean a reassuring smile then presses forward, nipping at Dean’s shoulder. Dean makes a sound somewhere between a hiss and a laugh and continues his ministrations.

Dean’s cock shifts against Castiel’s belly and he gingerly reaches down between them, wrapping a hand around the impressively thick shaft. Dean hums at the touch and his hands slip down, palming the swell of Castiel’s ass.

“Please,” Castiel whispers, as he feels Dean’s fingers flex toward the center of his ass, “I want you, Dean.” Dean pulls back and looks at Castiel with dark hooded eyes.

“I want you as well,” he says, as callused fingers brush over his dry hole. Castiel flinches at this, and glances at Dean dubiously.

“Um, do you…?” He swallows hard, not quite knowing how to ask about lube. Dean chuckles lightly and moves off the bed. Castiel props himself up on his elbows and watches Dean as he pulls a small clay pot from one of the shelves and returns to the bed.

“It is alright, Cas,” Dean whispers against his lips, brushing a knuckle softly over his cheekbone, “I shall take care of you.” Dean places a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and presses him back down into the bed. He can feel the warmth of Dean’s mouth as he moves down his chest. Dean’s tongue darts out to lick at the drops of precome that have pooled over Castiel’s belly.

There is a muffled sound which Castiel assumes is the jar opening. Something slick brushes his entrance and his whole body shivers in response. Castiel expects to feel a breach but instead, he feels the familiar feeling of Dean’s mouth wrapped around his cock. He moans softly at the dual sensation of Dean’s tongue and a finger pressing into his hole.

Dean works methodically, pressing in and out with a slick digit. When he adds a second one, Castiel groans and shifts, legs bending back and falling to the side.

“Is it alright?” Dean asks, pulling off from him, lips swollen and wet.

“Yes, yes. I’m good, keep going,” Castiel encourages. He reaches down blindly and slips a hand into Dean’s short hair, guiding him back to his aching cock. Dean continues, sucking him down gleefully as he stretches and scissors Castiel open. He adds a third finger and Castiel cries out at the satisfying burn. When Dean crooks his fingers and brushes over his prostate, Castiel howls loudly, muscles tensed and back arched. His grip tightens in Dean’s hair and he pulls him away from his cock.

“Dean, please,” he whimpers, “I’m ready.” Dean shakes his head minutely.

“I must prepare you further,” Dean says, fingers still slipping in and out of him. “I have been told I am quite large and I do not want to-” Castiel cuts him off with a breathless laugh.

“I swear if you don’t fuck me right now, I will do something I’ll regret,” Castiel says, chest shaking. Dean chuckles and shakes his head, but complies.

Castiel feels empty as Dean draws his hand away and moves up over him. He hovers above Castiel, his gaze never wavering. He reaches to the side, dipping his fingers into the pot to slick himself up further. He smooths a hand over Castiel’s thigh and presses it toward his chest. He can feel the head of Dean’s member resting at his entrance and at the first breach, Castiel moans obscenely.

Dean sheaths himself in one smooth motion, bottoming out against Castiel with a grunt. Castiel wraps his hands around Dean shoulders, squeezing hard as he adjusts to Dean’s girth.

“Cas,” Dean gasps lowly, “may I-” the question hangs in the air between them.

“Yes, Dean, move!” Castiel groans. Dean begins to move at a steady pace. Castiel’s hands come to Dean’s neck and he draws him in for a kiss. Dean’s breath rushes over his lips as he repeats his name like a mantra.

Dean’s fingers dig hard enough into his skin to cause bruising. He draws Castiel foward, thrusting deeper.

“More,” Castiel groans against Dean’s ear. He latches onto Dean’s neck, digging his teeth into the soft flesh. Dean moans and his paces increases.

“Yes, Cas!” He gasps. The slap of skin joins the chorus of their moans. Castiel legs wrap around Dean’s torso, heels digging into his sides. Dean lifts his head and looks at Castiel, dark gaze unwavering as he thrusts into him frantically.

“Touch me,” Castiel begs, “Fuck! Please, Dean!” Dean gives a short nod and reaches in between them, taking Castiel’s member in his palm. It only takes a handful of strokes for Castiel to come wildly over his belly. Dean’s pace grows erratic before he stiffens and comes with a growls, emptying into Castiel.

They lay there short of breath and inhaling each other’s air for a long while. Dean’s head slumps onto Castiel’s shoulder and Castiel lets his temple fall against Dean’s head. It is the middle of the day, yet he is all at once so very tired. Dean shifts above him and pulls out, a dribble of come leaking out as he does.

“I have no doubt the whole household knows of our activities,” Dean says jokingly. Castiel hums in response as his eyes droop. He feels something soft drag across his belly and opens one eye to see Dean wiping him off with a cloth.

“Thank you,” Castiel murmurs as Dean crawls into the bed next to him. His arms encircle him and Castiel lets himself sink into his hold. Right before he drifts off, he hears Dean murmur into his neck “sleep now, love of mine.”

 

_Art by[Dimiuel](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/), used with permission_

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter might give you cavities... Pure sugar here.

The kitchen is warm and fragrant. The smell of roast pheasant drifts through the room as Castiel and Jessa sit side-by-side slicing potatoes and carrots. In the few months that Castiel had been within the realm, he had established a very comfortable routine: learning how to hunt, trying to perfect his pie-making skills, reading and translating the many texts that line the walls, and of course being with Dean.

 _Dean_. Castiel feels himself flushing at the thought of him. Castiel swears that Dean is working some sort of love spell on him, as hard and fast as he has fallen for the god. Everything about Dean seems to fascinate Castiel: the way his eyes lit up when he first heard of Jessa’s pregnancy, the way he moves while tracking an animal, the way his hands dance across Castiel’s skin when he’s just waking in the morning, the way he’s so gentle yet strong as he moves inside Castiel. A wide smile spreads across Castiel’s face unconsciously. Jessa glances at him out of the corner of her eye.

“I suspect I know who you are thinking of,” she says with a coy smile. Castiel huffs an embarrassed laugh.

“Don’t pretend you don’t do the same thing when you think of Sam,” Castiel replies, bumping her shoulder playfully.

“Of course, I do,” Jessa says, “he is my bonded.” She rubs a hand over her swollen belly, just barely noticable now. Castiel’s face goes serious in thought.

“Jessa,” Castiel says hesitantly, “what is ‘bonding’ exactly?” Castiel looks down, embarrassed, feeling like he’s asking where babies come from. She hums in thought.

“It is not something the Fae do,” she answers. “I know it means Sam and I are joined in this life and the next.” Sam shook like a leaf when he asked.

“Was he worried you’d say no?” Castiel furrowed his brow. She laughs sweetly.

“I believe he was,” she says solemnly, putting down the knife and looking at Castiel. “He had no reason for concern though. I was always his.”

“Do you… do you have the mark?” Castiel taps at the area of his chest where Dean has his tattoo. She nods warmly and pulls her thick blond hair away from her shoulders, revealing a similar design at the nape of her neck.

“Why do you ask such questions, Cas?” Jessa asks coyly, “there is reason?” Castiel looks away and shakes his head.

“No, not really,” he says, focusing on the carrot in front of him. In truth, Dean has made no such mention of it at all. He calls Castiel “Love of Mine” and in the quiet of the night, whispers adoring things into his skin, but Castiel feels a lack of belonging between him and Dean. He fears that his early chastisement of Dean’s possessiveness might have derailed their relationship before it started.

“Were you and Sam together very long before you, um…?” Castiel mumbles. Jessa looks at him knowingly.

“No,” she admits, “a handful of months, if  that, but I cannot say what is commonplace in these matters. It’s best a question for Dean or Sam I suppose.” She gives him a wan smile and returns to her work. Castiel picks his knife back up and tries to distract himself as best he can.

 

***

 

Castiel slips off of Dean and crashes down onto the bed beside him, skin-tingling and thoroughly sated. He glances over to see Dean’s chest rapidly rising and falling as he catches his breath. His eyes are closed and his face is blissfully relaxed. His tan skin shines with a thin film of sweat while the mess of Castiel’s release is painted across his stomach.

“Did I wear you out, Dean?” Castiel says wryly. Dean swallows hard and nods. He looks over to Castiel, still trying to regulate his breathing before speaking.

“That is very new to me,” he gasps out. Castiel raises a curious eyebrow.

“Really? No one’s ever done that to you before?” He asks with a worried frown. “Did you not like it?” Dean gives a quick shake of his head.

“No, I like it very much,” Dean reassures, “you are…an imaginative lover.” He leans over and kisses Castiel tenderly.

“I find it very enjoyable,” he murmurs against his lips. Castiel gives a small shrug and moves closer to Dean. He takes the hint and wraps his arm around Castiel, pulling him close to his chest and pillowing his head beneath his chin. They lay there in the soft light of the fire, feeling the highs of their orgasms fade away.

“Dean, can I ask you a question?”

“Anything, Love of Mine,” he responds, planting a kiss into Castiel’s hair. Castiel shifts awkwardly as he tries to measure his words.

“What is entailed with… bonding?” He feels Dean tense slightly beneath. Castiel looks up to catch Dean’s eyes, but they are trained on the ceiling, focusing on nothing.

“There is a ceremony,” Dean finally says after a long moment. “Words of commitment are shared between the partners.Their palms are cut and a blood bond is formed. Then a mark is shared between them.” Castiel reaches up and traces the brand over Dean’s chest.

“Like this?” he mumbles.

“Yes, it could be a family mark,” Dean answers simply, “Or something unique to the bond if they so choose.” Castiel is quiet for a long while as Dean’s words sink in.

“Jessa has the same mark as you and Sam,” Castiel states flatly. Dean hums in response.

“I should have expected you would speak with Jessa,” he sighs. Dean shifts out of Castiel’s hold and turns to face him, propping himself up on an elbow. Castiel looks at him, face drawn tight in worry.

“Cas,” Dean begins hesitantly, “do not believe because I have not spoken of bonding with you that I do not wish to.” Castiel’s expression relaxes at this admission. Dean looks away bashfully, focusing his attention on his hands.  

“I am not a poet nor a learned man like Sam,” Dean continues, “so my words are not as gifted as I would like, but… I hold you in very high regard.” He reaches out and takes Castiel’s hand, rubbing a thumb over the top of his knuckles.

“I love you, truly and utterly, and I cannot imagine a moment I would not want you in my life.” Dean brings his hand to his lips. “But to ask you for a bond is a selfish request on my part. You would be forever linked to this realm. Your life in your world, as it were, would be over.” Dean looks up, eyes shining bright against the black. Castiel absorbs this information, carefully considering his words. Dean sighs deeply and speaks again.

“Since the moment you drew me forth, I have known I have wanted you with me for all of time.” Dean’s whole demeanor caves in on itself and his large frame seems to shrink, “but you have a life of your own and… and I am not worthy to ask you to leave that forever.” Castiel watches Dean’s jaw clench in frustration. He worries his fingernails mindlessly. Without warning, Castiel reaches out, cupping Dean’s face in his hand and pulling him in for a fiery kiss.

“I love you,” he says, touching his forehead to Dean’s, “I want you. The ‘Life’ I had before coming here,” his fingers come up in air quotes, “was… empty. Being here with you in your world, I feel complete. And it’s not just you, It’s everything about this place! I don’t want to go back.” Castiel’s hand still rests on Dean’s cheek and he places his own large palm over it.

“I want this.” Castiel says confidently, “I want you.” He leans in once more and softly kisses Dean.

“You wish to bond with me?” Dean mumbles. Castiel responds with a derisive snort.

“Yes, that is what I’m saying!” He laughs. Dean presses forward, kissing Castiel once more, unable to control the smile bleeding through. Castiel is swallowed up in Dean’s embrace as they drift into unconsciousness.

 

_Art by[Dimiuel](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/), used with permission_

***

 

Dean and Castiel stand in the hall, hands woven together tightly, facing the other members of the household. Sam looks pensive and perhaps concerned at the news of his brother’s intended bond. Hobb seems skeptical, arms folded across his chest and thick beard no doubt hiding a grimace. Ellyn’s expression is unreadable as she takes in the news. Only Jessa is elated, immediately running toward them and throwing her arms around Castiel and Dean.

“Dean,” Sam says after a long moment, “this is very sudden.” Castiel feels Dean squeeze his hand in reassurance.

“Yes, but...” Dean looks at Castiel and smiles, “I am very sure.” Sam’s frown deepens.

“It is not you I am concerned for,” Sam shifts his focus to Castiel. “Cas, if Dean has coerced you in any way-”

“I promise you, Sam, he has not,” Castiel says, cutting him off. “This is what I want.”

“Dean, I do not feel this is wise,” Hobb says. “Ye idjits are fixed in a state of infatuation-”

“It is not infatuation, Hobb,” Dean interupts sternly. “I realize you are speaking from concern, so I shall keep my ire at bay, but do not again insult my intended.” Dean speaks calmly, but the warning hangs in the air between them. Hobb sighs heavily and shrugs, muttering something unintelligible.

“Would everyone excuse us?” Ellyn finally speaks. She glances at Sam, who takes Jessa’s hands and leads her from the hall. Hobb follows after them without a word, “You as well, Dean. Leave us for a bit.” Dean doesn’t move and something unspoken passes between them. He leans over to kiss Castiel softly on the temple and disappears through the doorway.

Ellyn moves gracefully and sits at the table. She motions to the chair across from her and Castiel takes a seat as well.

“You seem very adamant, Cas” she says.

“I am,” he responds, “I want Dean.” Ellyn hums in reply and considers him for a moment.

“Did Dean tell you my story?” She asks, tipping a jug of water into a nearby goblet.

“He said you were mortal,” Castiel answers, “and you’ve been in this realm longer than he has.”

“As long,” Ellyn corrects, raising her eyes to meet Castiel’s, “before Jhonen, their father, left I was brought here to watch after the boys, care for them. My orders were to make sure they grew well.”

“I think you accomplished that,” Castiel says.

“Yes, I think I agree,” she says with a gracious smile. “It is the least I could do.” She sighs heavily and the air in the hall quickly goes solemn.

“I knew their mother, Myrae. I was the high priestess of the village. She was my second,” Ellyn speaks quietly, her words falling flat within the cavernous space.

“Dean said she was a druis.” Castiel leans in closer.

“She was, as was I,” Ellyn clarifies, “We were respected, educated, revered. We were the highest echelon of the village and Myrae was sought after, not just for wisdom, but for her beauty. Many men wanted her, but she would have none.”

“Until Sam and Dean’s father,” Castiel filled in. Ellyn nodded.

“Jhonen saw her and wanted her. He wooed her as Dean is wooing you now.” This information caused Castiel’s stomach to lurch, but he was unsure why. “It was only a matter of weeks before he whisked her away to his realm. She was with child shortly after that.”

“Dean said she stayed in the village,” Castiel says. Ellyn’s face fills with sorrow and she takes a deep breath.

“I’m sure you can imagine how lonely it is for a mortal within this realm. We are few, and centuries ago, even fewer.” Ellyn continues, “Myrae was melancholy and withdrawn. Jhonen was often away, leaving her alone in this fortress. With no warning, she returned to the village with the children. Yet, in the short while she had been gone, people had begun to turn on the old gods. Even I was facing scrutiny.” Ellyn’s eyes stared past Castiel, unfocused as she recited the story.

“The leaders of the village, many of whom had wanted Myrae for themselves, led the attack against her. I tried to stop them, intervene, but they…” A choked sob rises from Ellyn’s throat and she covers her mouth. Castiel reaches out and takes her hand. She looks up at him with watery eyes and squeezes back. She takes a deep breath and continues.

“They restrained me, slaughtered my family in front of my very eyes, and then cut my throat.” Her words hang heavy between them, “there was nothing I could do to save them, any of them.” The life seems to drain from Castiel and he slumps back against the chair, digesting what she said.

“Are you…,” Castiel swallows hard, “are you saying I will die if I stay with Dean?”

“No,” Ellyn says after a long moment, “I am saying that if you choose to stay, you must _stay_. You cannot flit between the realms and expect things to run smooth.The natural order of our worlds does not allow it.” Ellyn takes both of Castiel’s hands in hers.

“To do so would be endangering not only your life, but all those you care about as well, including Dean,” Ellyn says. “Do you understand?” Her words sink in. Castiel clenches his jaw and looks at her, eyes serious and certain.

“I choose Dean,” he says simply, “Over everything, I choose him.” Ellyn raises  an eyebrow.

“And if I were to send you back to your realm right this moment?” She asks.

“Mark my words, I would find a way back,” Castiel assures. Ellyn gives a small satisfied nod and stands from the table.

“I believe you,” She says. “I don’t know if it’s true, but I think that you believe it to be. Belief is a very powerful thing, Cas. The most powerful magic I have ever seen, in fact.” She rises from the table and places a hand on his shoulder as she passes him.

“Please forgive our scrutiny.” She says.

“I get it,” Castiel looks up at her offering a smile, “You all worry about him. I would, too.”

“You make him happy. That is clear” she offers. “Come, there is much to be prepared.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verse based on [Steffi's](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/tagged/Pagan-Gods-Verse) ([Sillyblue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue)) lovely artwork.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bonding Ceremony is based on Celtic hand-fasting traditions. The vows are abridged from [this site](http://ayngelboshemia.hubpages.com/hub/planning-a-celtic-handfasting)
> 
> I'm adding tags as I go along, so if you think something should be tagged, please let me know.
> 
> Thank you to [Veera](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphene/pseuds/morphene) for beta-ing

 

_Art by[Dimiuel](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/), used with permission_

 

“Shall we begin?” Ellyn asks. Dean and Castiel glance at each other and smile. Dean gives a small nod in response.

“Yes, Ellyn,” he says. They had trekked through the forest to the clearing where Castiel had initially arrived. He found himself clinging to Dean’s hand as they maneuvered through the darkness, evading unseen roots and branches littering the forest floor. As warm and welcoming as the forest was in the light, it was equally terrifying in the cover of darkness. Castiel had never been afraid of the dark before and he couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something disquieting about the heavy shadows of the wood.

They enter the circle of stones, white light of the moon putting everything on display. Sam, Jessa and Hobb wait just at the edge. Castiel shifts from foot to foot, trying to calm the stray nerves that have twisted into his belly. The air is cool and damp and he finds himself pulling his cloak tighter around himself. The fine ermine fur brushes against his cheek, vaguely reminiscent of Dean’s touch when he had presented the gift to Castiel.

“ _For when I cannot keep you warm, Love of mine_ ,” he had murmured.

“Let us start,” Ellyn says. Both Dean and Castiel stand straight and wait for Ellyn to continue.

“We gather in this sacred place to secure a bond between these two. Dean of Venta Ceaster, Protector of the Hunt and Family with Castiel of the Outer Realm.”

“Shurley,” Castiel interrupts. Ellyn and Dean both glance at him curiously. “My last name. It’s Shurley.” Ellyn gives him a soft smile and Dean places a hand on his shoulder.

“With Castiel of Shurley,” Ellyn says, before turning to Dean. “Dean, is it true you come here of your own will and accord?.”

“It is,” he responds. She turns to Castiel. “Cas, is it true you come here of your own will and accord?”

“Yes,” he answers. She nods and looks toward the others.

“Sam, please bring the blade.” Sam steps forward and presents a shining knife to her. It has a serrated edge and detailed symbols (only some of which Castiel recognized) engraved near the spine. Ellyn takes it and holds it aloft, moonlight reflecting off of it and onto the ground between them.

“I call upon the divine magic that has existed through all time-” Ellyn’s words ring out clear and strong, “-to join these two through blood and spirit. Link them through eternity, through many worlds, to find one another when lost.” She extends a hand toward Dean.

“May I have your hand?” Dean lays his hand in hers. She brings the blade down upon his palm, cutting a two inch line across the center. Dark blood begins to fill his hand. Ellyn turns to Castiel.

“Cas, place your hand upon mine.” His hand trembles as he lays it on hers. He hisses in pain as the knife slips across his skin, red rising in its wakes.

“Now join your hands.” Dean reaches out, blood dripping onto the earth. He clasps Castiel’s hand in his, their palms squelching together as he does. Castiel's palm stings as it rubs against Dean’s, but he grips tighter. He catches Dean’s gaze, seeing all the love and devotion he feels reflected right back at him in those dark eyes.

“I now ask you to repeat after me,” Ellyn continues. “Before the divine magic, friends and  
family, by the life that courses within my blood and the love that resides within my heart, I take you to my hand, heart, and spirit, to be my Bonded. To desire you and be desired by you, to possess you and be possessed by you. I vow to love you wholly and completely without restraint. I shall not seek to change you. I shall respect you, and your ways as I respect myself.” They repeat the words back to her in unison, a slow smile rising to Dean’s face as he does.

“Dean, is it your wish to be bound to Cas?” Ellyn asks.

“It is,” he says, eyes not leaving Castiel.

“Cas, is it your wish to be bound to Dean?” He catches something earnest in the tone of her voice, like she’s giving Castiel one more chance to back out.

“It is,” Castiel says, looking straight ahead at Dean, voice steady and sure. Ellyn takes hold of both of their wrists, separating them.

“You are now bound in blood,” Ellyn announces as she clasps both their hands. “Castiel, it is your intent to stay within this realm.”

“Yes,” he answers with a nod.

“Have you chosen to take Dean’s mark?” Castiel nods again and extends his right arm toward Ellyn. Ellyn brings up Dean’s palm and dips a finger into cut. She hastily draws a mark onto Castiel’s forearm and places Dean’s bleeding palm over it.

“Dean,” Ellyn says quietly, “say the oath.” Dean takes a deep breath and begins to speak.

“I welcome you, Castiel, into my life, by name and by mark. I vow to keep you and protect you as family and choose you over all else.” Castiel feels heat radiating from his arm and glances down to see a white light emitting from under Dean’s palm. When he draws his hand away, a star encircled in flame remains; Dean’s family mark. Ellyn places a square of cloth in each of their hands to staunch the bleeding.

“You are now bound, in this realm and others, until the end of days.” Castiel smiles brightly and looks up at Dean, who is carefully entwining their fingers.

“Love of mine,” Dean murmurs before moving in for an enthusiastic kiss. He pulls Castiel to him tightly, lifting him up off the ground. Castiel closes his eyes and focuses on the warmth of Dean’s lips against his own and the earthy scent of his skin. As they draw away, Dean chases his lips with one more soft kiss. Castiel giggles and presses his forehead to Dean.

“Love of mine,” Castiel says, echoing Dean.

“Only yours,” Dean murmurs back.

***

Castiel stretches out across the bed. His whole body feels tired and heavy from too much good food and even more good wine. He is naked from the waist up, enjoying the feeling of the furs of the bed brushing against his shoulders. Castiel blinks quickly and yawns, trying to stay awake until Dean returns to their chamber. He extends his arm out in front of him, and lightly touches the fresh mark on his forearm. The tattoo is tender but not pained; it feels like a hundred bees are humming just beneath his skin.

He knows it’s not a normal tattoo. Looking at the ink, it’s static, however the lines seem to shift or move at random moments. There is some magic at work here and Castiel’s analytical nature needles him to find out what it is. He makes a point to look it up as soon as he can.

The heavy door opens and Dean steps though.

 _Well, maybe not that soon_ , Castiel thinks, smiling up at him.

“Hello, Dean,” he says, sitting up and facing him. Dean closes the door and moves toward the bed. Castiel reaches out and pulls him closer. He presses his face into Dean’s stomach, closing his eyes and breathing in deep the scent of Dean’s skin and sweat. He feels Dean’s hand rest upon his head and gazes up at him.

“I have a question,” Castiel asks. “Ellyn called you Dean of Venta Ceaster. What is that?”

“It is here,” Dean answers after a long moment, “It is the realm.” Castiel nods; of course it has a name. Heaven, Asgard, Elysian Fields, Shangri-la… the afterlife always has a name. Castiel frowns at his lack of perception.

“What is wrong?” Dean says quietly. Castiel glances up at him and shakes his head.

“Not a thing,” he answers. “I’m just… happy.”

“Are you?” Dean asks, a trace of worry crossing his brow.

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel insists.

“You won’t regret leaving your realm?” Dean pets a hand through Castiel’s hair. “There were many fascinating things there you may miss.” Castiel rises to his feet, wrapping his hands around Dean’s neck.

“Hmmm, processed flour would make pie-making easier,” he kids, “but no, there isn’t anything I’ll miss. There are far more interesting things here-” he kisses Dean sweetly “-and more specifically here.” A hand traces down over Dean’s body and wraps around his growing member through his garments. Dean inhales deeply and chuckles, pressing his lips to Castiel’s neck.

“I thought you had enough celebration?” Dean asks, raising an eyebrows. “You nodded off on my shoulder during the feast.” In reply, Castiel meets Dean in a heated kiss.

“Mmm, second wind,” he offers against his lips. He presses forward once again as Dean’s arms wind around his middle. The coolness from outside still sticks to Dean’s clothes and it causes a shiver to rise over Castiel’s bare skin.

“You are wearing entirely too much clothing,” Castiel says as he pulls back.

“We shall have to correct that, shan’t we,” Dean murmurs. Castiel unhooks his hands from around Dean’s neck and begins undoing his belt, teasing Dean’s lips with his own. Calloused fingers dip beneath the waistband of his trousers. Castiel undoes the lace holding Dean’s cloak and lets it fall to the floor. His fingers roughly tug at Dean’s tunic, pulling it up over his head. He trails a hand over the mark on Dean’s chest and smiles, his own mark thrumming deeper as he does.

“It is the bond,” Dean answers the question Castiel was about to ask, his fingers busily untying Castiel’s trousers, “that is what you feel.” A wicked grin crosses Castiel’s face.

“So what do you feel?” Castiel murmurs as he latches his mouth over Dean’s mark. A sharp breath turns into a soft moan and Dean’s fingers falter in their work. Castiel rolls his tongue over the dark lines, casting his eyes up to watch Dean. His eyes are squeezed shut but his mouth hangs open. Castiel’s own tattoo pulses, the strange tickle becoming almost painful.

“Cas!” His name escapes Dean’s lips and he is unceremoniously thrown onto the bed with a grunt. Dean tugs his trousers off so violently, he’s almost sure they were torn in half. Strong hands grasp his thighs and press them back toward his chest as Dean crawls forward on the bed.

“You are fiendish, Cas,” Dean whispers as he drags kisses down the skin of his inner thigh. “But so very good for me.” A tongue moves languidly southward. Castiel’s hands run through Dean’s hair and he makes a small noise of surprise when Dean moves past his throbbing cock.

Without warning, Dean’s hands are parting his ass. Something hot and rough drags over Castiel’s hole and he jerks in response. Dean’s hand presses onto his hip bones, anchoring him down to the bed.

“I have you,” Dean’s words are muffled and Castiel can feel a breath of hot air over him. The warm intrusion of Dean’s tongue continues as Castiel writhes aboves him. It presses in deeper as Dean pushes his asscheeks apart further.

“Fuck!” Castiel whimpers wantonly, knuckles white as they grip the furs of the bed. He can feel Dean moving his head between his legs before ravaging him further. Teeth just barely brush over the puckered area and Castiel bites his lip to the point of blood to keep from screaming.

“Dean,” he chokes out, “fuck me please!” He can hear Dean’s soft chuckle and feels him pull back. Castiel lets his legs slump forward and turns his head to watch Dean retrieve the pot from the shelf.

“I think you need a more convenient location for that,” Castiel teases. Dean crawls toward him and shuts him up with a kiss. The familiar slick of Dean’s fingers is on his hole, pushing into the already-warm muscle. Dean peppers kisses over Castiel’s chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth as he opens his up. His fingers brush over his prostate and Castiel bucks and cries out.

“Like music,” Dean whispers as he mouths over Castiel’s clavicle. Castiel huffs out a desperate laugh as he grasps Dean under the arms and pulls him forward. Dean readies him cock and pushes forward with a low groan. Castiel clutches to Dean’s shoulder, digging his nails into the skin. Dean stills for a moment as he adjusts to the feeling of Castiel around him and then begins to thrust.

He presses his forehead to Castiel’s shoulder as he moves within him. Castiel whispers filthy encouragement into his ear and Dean pounds deeper. He wraps his legs tight around Dean’s waist and, with a surprising amount of strength, quickly flips them so he is riding Dean.  

Castiel arches his back and rocks his hips as Dean’s head shoots back against the bed. His hands rest on Castiel’s thighs, rubbing repeatedly. Castiel fucks himself mercilessly, enjoying the garbled noises coming from Dean as he does.

“Cas, Love of Mine,” Dean gasps. “I’m so close…”

“Touch me, Dean,” Castiel orders breathless as he rides Dean wildly. Dean wraps his hand around Castiel’s cock and gives a few strokes before Castiel comes with a moan. Dean follows a few thrusts later, groaning and tensing as he does.

Castiel sits atop Dean, body feeling loose and lax. Dean’s member is softening within him and he gives his ass an experimental wiggle, causing Dean to hiss loudly.

“Ah! Cas, you mustn’t,” Dean takes a deep breath. “It is very tender, Love.” Castiel lifts himself up and rolls off of Dean. He snuggles under Dean’s arm, not caring about the mess decorating his stomach. Castiel blinks slowly and he can feel Dean bringing the covers up around them. Dean pulls Castiel closer and plants kisses over each of his eyelids and on his temples before ending on his lips.

“Sleepy,” Castiel mumbles.

“The day has been very long,” Dean replies with a nod. Castiel nods as his eyes flutter closed.

“Love you, Dean,” he murmurs as he drifts off. Dean pets a hand through his hair.

“And I you,” Dean says as he presses a kiss to the top of his head.

***

Castiel is awoken by a loud thump followed by a muffled scream. He is only semi-aware of the sound of movement outside the chamber door. The bed shifts as Dean rises from it. In the darkness he can just perceive Dean’s form stealthily moving to the door.

“Dean?” Castiel mumbles but Dean shushes him curtly. He blinks several times and sits up, consciousness coming slowly.

“Cas, stay here,” Dean hisses. There is a heavy creak as the door opens followed by a soft thud as it closes behind him. Castiel bites at his lip, uncomfortable and confused. The discomforting feeling from the forest has returned, and he can’t understand why. There is silence in the hall. He tries to reassure himself that Dean will return to the chamber in a moment saying that Gabriel is running amok through the fortress.

Castiel jumps at a crash from the hallway. He stands from the bed and takes a hesitant step forward when the door to the chamber explodes inward and Dean is thrown against the back wall.

“Dean!” Castiel cries as he rushes toward Dean’s slumped form. Dean groans painfully and slowly pushes himself up.

“Cas! Hide!” he croaks. Castiel wants to ask what is happening when a thrust of energy has him pressed up against the wall, pinned and helpless. His throat feels tight, like a fist is clenched around it.

“Cas!” Dean screams, but he’s thrown upwards once again, his head hitting the opposite wall with a crack. Castiel clutches at his neck and stares in horror at Dean’s lifeless form, trying to gasp out his name.

All at once, he is dropped to the floor as footsteps echo through the doorway. The first thing he sees are crimson eyes, bright and fevered, staring right through him.

“I apologize for the disturbance,” Emma says quietly. Her eyes fall on Dean unconscious body. “He could’ve made this easy, you know?” She snaps her fingers. A dark, hulking mass materializes and moves toward Dean, scooping him up and disappearing again.

“No!” Castiel cries out and there is once again pressure on his throat, cutting off his words. Emma’s hand is loosely extended in front of her.

“I didn’t say you could talk,” she says flatly. She drops her hand and Castiel gasps for air. Emma snaps her fingers once more and again the dark, humanoid mass appears. Castiel stares in wide-eyed fear as the from moves toward him. A scream catches in his throat as something closes around his arms and the world goes black.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verse based on [Steffi's](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/tagged/Pagan-Gods-Verse) ([Sillyblue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue)) lovely artwork.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely sure how much violence classifies as graphic violence, so I'm tagging it to be on the safe side.
> 
> This chapter would have been up sooner, but I ended up having to rewrite the first part and then decided to turn what would've been two chapters into one long one.

The first thing Castiel is aware of when he wakes is darkness and something bound across his eyes. His hands, too, are chained as are his feet. When he tries to shift, he feels something soft and warm next to him. His head aches immensely and there is a deep throb in his side which is unmistakably a cracked rib. Castiel stifles a whimper, unsure of what the repercussions might be.

In the next moment, he is grabbed and thrown to the ground without forewarning. He shifts and manages to shamble his way to his knees when the blindfold is pulled off. Before him stands half a dozen dark, hulking, humanoid masses. Castiel can only assume they are Emma’s army of Souls as she steps out from between them. Her red eyes seem to glow and her expression is victorious. Out of the corner of his eye Castiel spots Sam and Jessa. They are both tied up in a similar manner as him. Sam’s face is badly swollen, a massive bruise darkening half of his face. Jessa looks disheveled, but otherwise unharmed. Her eyes are teary and her bound hands clutch at her belly protectively. Castiel doesn’t see Hobb and Ellyn. He knows that they occasionally spend their nights at a cottage near the outer corners of the realm, and he hopes that they were able to escape there. Castiel’s eyes search the area as a cold realization hits him.

Where’s Dean?

His head twitches wildly as he looks for him. A Soul forcibly grabs his head and positions it so he is staring right at Emma.

“You are curious as to where my Father is,” Emma states flatly, “I promise you, he is alive. He needs to be in order to see this.” The wall of Souls parts and Dean is dragged out before them, unconscious. His hands are bound in heavy iron manacles and a collar of iron rests over his neck. Castiel can make out shallow engravings in the metal and he assumes they are no doubt wards to control Dean’s power. He is thrown to the ground with a thud.

Emma approaches Dean and swiftly kicks him in the side, earning a pained grunt. He rolls over with a groan, eyes blinking up at Emma.

“Good Morning, Father,” Emma sing-songs. Her voice is so high and sweet, fitting for her physical form, if not her personality, “I have a surprise for you.” Three Souls grab Dean roughly and pull him to his knees, facing the prisoners.

“Cas! Sam!” Dean croaks out before receiving a fist to the jaw.

“Did I say you could speak?” Emma chastises. Dean picks his head up and glares at her.

“Let them go!” Dean hisses, “leave them alone.” Emma cocks her head and looks at him.

“Really, I have no intention of hurting them,” Emma says coolly, “you alone are my concern. However, if I find your behavior unsatisfactory, they,” she glances at the three of them, “shall pay the consequences.”

“What is it you want?” Dean growls, pulling at his bindings.

“You are aware of what I am after,” Emma, walking past Jessa. She pets a small hand through her long blond hair and Jessa flinches at her touch.

“The realm,” Dean answers.

“Yes, that is part of it,” she says as she moves on toward Sam. “Tell me father, what is worth more to you, your kingdom or your brother?”

“Don’t do it, Dean!” Sam shouts out, tugging against his chains, “don’t abandon the realm to her! I will find a way out of this, Don’t-” Emma rolls her eyes and nods at the Soul holding Sam, who grips his shoulder and snaps it with an echoing crack. Sam howls in pain and Dean tries to fight off the Souls holding him to reach her.

“Leave them be!” Dean growls, “do what you want to me but leave them alone!” Emma turns to him and smiles.

“Oh, don’t worry. I have much in store for you,” Emma gushes. Jessa whimpers helplessly as Sam writhes in pain on the ground. Emma turns to her, giving her a withering look.

“Oh, do be quiet!” She barks as she backhands Jessa across the face. She cries out loudly and collapses on the ground, sobbing.

“You baseless cur! I will tear you limb from limb,” Sam growls, face pressed into the dirt. Emma rolls her eyes and steps in front of him.

“Are you sure? From what I see, _you_ are at my mercy,” Emma counters. She pulls a roughly-hewn knife from her belt as Sam is pulled upright. She holds the knife under Sam’s jaw, pressing into the tender skin. “You really are in no position to make threats, Samael,”

“Emma, I give you my word that if you harm them further you won’t live to see daybreak,” Dean snarls through clenched teeth. “You will pray for death.”

Emma sighs exhaustively and with a flick of her wrist, Dean is flung into the air and pinned to the stone wall behind them.

“Do you really believe your magic is still stronger than mine, Father?” Emma laughs. “Do you think I would come here without a plan?” She lets him drop ungraciously to the ground before walking toward him and gripping him by the hair.

“The realm is yours, just leave us be,” he croaks.

“Dean, No!” Sam cries out.

“Sam, please!” Dean insists. His gaze rises to meet Emma’s. “It is all yours. Just take it.” Emma’s shoulders slump fractionally, as if she is disappointed in the outcome.

“It’s not quite that simple now.” Emma sighs with a shake of her head. She steps in front of Castiel and considers him.

“The mortal is still here. Curious,” she runs a small hand through Castiel’s thick dark hair, causing his hackles to rise, “Why?”

“Cas is a guest,” Dean’s expression is stony. Emma crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow toward Dean.

“Yes, but he’s been here far too long to be a guest,” she points out. “Who does he belong to?” Dean glares at her, eyes hard.

“Cas belongs to no one,” he lies, “he is his own man.” Emma smirks at her father, her expression a twisted mirror image of Dean. She hums lightly and shakes her head.

“Really? He belongs to no one?” She asks. “Oh, why must you lie to me? I know he is yours, Father. His stink is all over you.” Emma says, patting Dean’s cheek patronizingly.

“I saw you in the woods as well. You were being naughty boys.” Castiel’s breath catches in his throat and Dean’s eyes go wide. Emma laughs softly and turns away from Dean to face Castiel.

“He must really be something special.” Emma’s words come out almost wistfully, “and I believe I know why.” Castiel’s  throat goes dry. Emma grabs him by the arm, upsetting his balance and sending him careening face-first to the ground.

“The mark!” Emma gasps. Castiel can feel her fingers tracing over the buzzing skin of his tattoo, “You bonded with him?! Oh, well this is interesting.” Castiel is pulled up to his knees by Emma’s henchman.

“I really didn’t come here for anyone but you,” she glances at Dean, “but that … _that_ changes matters.”

“You will not touch a hair on Cas’ head,” Dean roars.

“Or what?” Emma challenges. Dean squares back his shoulders and breathes a blast of fire toward Emma’s head. Castiel dives out of the way as her lithe frame is sent hurtling backward. Dean wrenches the chains out of the Soul’s hold whipping them in Emma’s direction. Emma stands unsteady on her feet and brings her arms up over her head. There is a crash of thunders and a shockwave of power sends everyone to the ground gasping. Emma seems to fly toward Dean, grabbing his viciously by the hair and wrenching his head back.

“You shall pay dearly for that,” she throws him to the ground. “You may have been able to push through my warding, but I now know there are better ways to control you.” She stalks over to Castiel.

“Unbind him,” she orders the Soul guarding him. As soon as Castiel’s arms are unhooked, Emma grabs the marked one roughly. Castiel’s gaze flicks to the side where he sees a moaning Sam next to a horrified Jessa. “This is very special, you know?” Castiel can’t answer. His eyes are large and fearful. Emma reels back and slaps him hard enough his ears ring.

“Answer me!” She bellows.

“Y-yes,” Castiel mumbles.

“Want to see something wonderful it can do?” she offers, her eyes bright and wild.

“Don’t!,” Dean warns. Emma ignores him as she displays a handful of claw-like nails and quickly sinks them into the skin of Castiel’s arm right at the mark.

Castiel and Dean scream in pain simultaneously. Castiel feels like his entire arm is on fire. Every vein in his arm feels like there is acid running through it. He gasps helplessly as Emma sinks her nails into the bleeding skin. Dean cries out, writhing in pain against his restraints. Emma releases Castiel’s arm and admires her handiwork, nail marks in a perfect row marring the lines of the tattoo. Castiel sobs helplessly when Emma grabs him by the hair and jerks his head up.

“That’s only the start,” she hisses.

“Please,” Castiel gasps, “please stop.” Emma ’tsks’ and shakes her head.

“We have just begun, though,” she hisses.

“What it is you’re after?” Sam pleads. Emma glares at him before twisting her hand in the air, snapping his wrist. Sam cries out and clasps his arm to his chest.

“I am after what is due to me,” Emma casts hards eyes on all of them. “The prophecy said-.”  
“What prophecy?” Dean gasps. She turns on her heel and faces Dean. Her lips curl at the corners in a small, secret smile.

“You are not aware of it,” she says, realization dawning on her face. “Samael, did you never tell him?” Sam’s eyes find Dean’s questioning one’s.

“Sam?” he murmurs helplessly.

“It makes no difference now,” Emma says flippantly as she grabs Castiel by the neck and lifts him to his feet.

“Take this one and the other to the depths of the fortress,” Emma orders her Souls. “Leave me Father.”

“Dean, No!” Castiel screams, wrenching out of the henchman’s grasp. He runs toward Dean’s slumped figure, but before he can even reach him, something sharp sinks into the back of his neck. Dean yells something unintelligible and Castiel screams in pain as Emma twists her claws. There is a high pitched ringing drowning out the sound all around him as the world begins to fade into white in front of his eyes. Castiel could swear he hears Dean saying his name just before he loses consciousness.

***  


When Castiel comes to, he finds that he is lying on the floor of a cool, damp room. The air around him is thick and smells heavily of mildew. There is a low sound across from him, like someone mumbling under their breath in an urgent prayer.

Castiel tries to push himself up onto his arms and quickly drops back to the floor. His whole body aches and the coppery taste of blood lingers in his mouth. His arm and neck throb painfully. He extends his hand out and looks down at the tattoo; even in the dark, he can see the marking is bruised and raw from Emma’s attack.

“Cas?” a ragged voice says from across the room. Castiel raises his head to see Sam sitting on the floor opposite him, back resting against the stone wall. Jessa is curled up beside him asleep, her head resting in his lap.

“Sam,” Castiel’s voice comes out low and hoarse, “Where are we?”

“The dungeon of the fortress,” Sam replies softly. “You have been asleep for some time.” Castiel notices Sam’s opposite hand hanging limply at his side and remembers that Emma ordered her men to dislocate his shoulder before she broke his wrist.

“Your arm-”

“It will heal,” Sam says stiffly. Jessa shifts in his lap, whimpering softly but not waking up. Sam murmurs something to her as he pets his uninjured hand through her hair. Sam raises his head and his dark gaze finally meets Castiel’s.

“Where is Dean?” Castiel asks, knowing the answer can’t be good. Sam looks away despondently.

“With Emma,” he answers.

“What… what’s going to happen to him?” Castiel’s voice shakes as he asks the question that has been hanging over them. Sam doesn’t answer. His jaw twitches as he avoids Castiel’s eyes.

“Sam!” Castiel barks, causing Jessa to startle, “What is going to happen to Dean? Why...why did Emma ask you about a prophecy?” Sam locks eyes with Castiel. Pain and guilt shroud his features.   
“There is a prophecy that has been spoken of for centuries,” Sam finally answers.

“It’s about Dean?” Castiel asks.

“It concerns our family line,” Sam says. “It speaks of the birthright of the realm and to whom it belongs.”

“Wait? Like a will?” Castiel asks, sitting up painfully.

“It says the whole of the realm may only be inherited by the first born,” Sam continues.

“So, Dean, then.”

“Yes... and Emma,” Sam supplies. “Before she can claim it, though, his blood must be spilled.” Castiel feels the blood drain from his face as he processes the information.

“She’s going to kill him,” he mutters angrily.

“At the next full moon, yes,” Sam’s voice is thin within the stone walls.

“And there’s no way Dean can fight her?” Castiel hisses.

“Oh yes, Dean could defeat Emma. He is far more powerful than even she can imagine,” Sam reveals. “You saw how he fought past the sigils. When he focuses his magic, it’s incredible what he can do.” Castiel smiles at the thought.

“If you believe you’re powerful, then you are,” he mumbles to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just something Ellyn mentioned,” Castiel says dismissively, “If he’s powerful enough to defeat her than why…?” Castiel pauses mid sentence as it all clicks into place.

“We’re being used as collateral,” he mutters. “She’s threatening to hurt us if Dean doesn’t comply.”

“Not us,” Sams sighs, shaking his head, “You. The bond is her leverage.” Beneath him Jessa stirs and blinks awake.

“Sam,” she murmurs sleepily, pushing herself upright. Sam inches closer to her.

“Love of mine, how are you feeling,” he asks.

“I’m well, and you? Your arm…” She places a hand lightly on his injured one.

“I shall be fine, but-” Sam is interrupted by a flicker in the corner of the cell as Gabriel appears before them unexpectedly.

“Sam?” he says, grimacing at his surroundings, “Where are we? Why am I in this place?”

“Gabriel!” Sam quickly rises to his feet, “I have been calling your name for hours and you haven’t responded!” Gabriel clicks his tongue as he continues to examine the dungeon, fingers brushing against the craggy wall.

“Do not be so vexed, I have only just heard the call,” he offers. “It is hard to hear this deep within the fortress.” Sam gingerly helps Jessa to her feet, carefully cradling his fractured hand, before addressing Gabriel once more.

“I need to you take Jessa and Cas from this place. Take them to the edge of the realm where they may find Ellyn and Hobb,” Sam instructs. “I will go find Dean and deliver him.”

“Sam, you can’t be serious!” Castiel glares at Sam in disbelief. Sam’s face is swollen and bruised and his damaged hand is being held uselessly against his chest by his good one.

“I must find my brother. It is imperative-”

“Are you out of your mind?! Look at you!” Castiel says harshly. “You’re  badly hurt! you can barely move your arms.”

“I cannot leave him there to rot!” Sam barks hoarsely.

“So you’re going to put your own life in danger as well as Dean’s!?” Castiel huffs sarcastically.

“I will be fine Cas, I just…” Sam inhales sharply, in pain as he tries to adjust the position of his arm. “I just need to find Dean.”

“How on Earth do you plan on getting him away from Emma if you can’t even fight off one of that hordes she has guarding him?” Castiel moves in front of him, blocking Sam’s access to the door.

“I have magic on my side,” Sam says with as much confidence as he can muster.

“I can’t let you do that, Sam. You’ll be dead before you even get near Dean,” Jessa lets out a choked noise and covers her mouth. “I’ll get him.” Castiel’s voice is stern and Sam gapes at him.

“You are mad,” he hisses.

“You might be his brother, but you are in no shape to help him,“ Castiel reasons. He holds his marked arm out, “I’m bonded with him. This can help me find him. I might not have magic, but-”

“Cas, you are even far less equipped than I to fight off Emma or her Dark Souls,” Sam warns. “How would you expect to escape with Dean in tow?” He gives Castiel a doubtful look. He ponders this for a moment before answering.

“Gabriel will help me,” he answers. Gabriel jerks his head in Castiel’s direction.

“I’m sorry, Gabriel will do what?!” He squawks. Castiel levels his gaze at the sprite.

“You’ll get Sam and Jessa out of here to find Hobb and Ellyn,” Castile explains, hunching down on his level, “then, you come back for me. We’ll find Dean and then *poof* get ourselves out of here.” Castiel pantomimes dusting his hands off, “just like that.”

“And if Emma finds you?” Sam asks, his brow creased with worry. Castiel hesitates as he tries to swallow down the fear of Emma discovering them. He shrugs absently.

“I have to take that chance,” he says with a sigh.

***

 

Castiel and Gabriel inch along the wall of the second level of the fortress, unsure of where Emma is holding Dean. Sam had reluctantly let Gabriel whisk him away from the fortress, giving Castiel a worried, weary look as he made a promise to bring his brother back to him.

Gabriel creeps soundlessly, impossibly light on his feet, years of subterfuge and trickery paying off. Castiel feels the familiar hum within the bond mark telling him they are close to Dean. Gabriel hesitates for a moment and his ears perk at something unheard by Castiel.

“What is it?” he asks. Gabriel holds a hand out and waits, craning his his ear into the air.

“There is someone breathing,” he finally whispers. “That way,” he points in the direction of the stairs.

Carefully they descend the stairs into the large hall. Gabriel leads the ways, head alert as he follows the noises. The mark buzzes forcefully and Castiel drags his nails along the dark ink, trying to calm the furious movement beneath his skin. Gabriel pushes aside an enormous tapestry to reveal a large, wooden door. Castiel reaches for the handle, only to find that it won’t move. He looks to Gabriel hopefully.

“One moment,” Gabriel says, and he is gone in the blink of an eye. A moment later, there is a soft click and the door opens with the sprite on the other side, grinning widely.

Castiel doesn’t have time to thank him because the first thing he sees is Dean’s rumpled form curled on the floor.

“Dean!” Castiel hisses, rushing to him. He turns Dean’s unconscious body over in his arms. Dark bruises litter his face and neck. A large gash stretches across his forehead and dried blood is matted in his hair and brow. Dean’s eyes flutter open slowly, his dark eyes looking tired and hazy.

“Cas,” he mumbles, warm recognitions flooding his verdant centers of his gaze, then much sharper, “Cas! Why are you here? Where’s Sam? Jessa?”

“We’re here to get you out,” Castiel says, helping Dean sit up carefully.

“Gabriel?” Dean asks, perplexed, his eyes falling on the sprite. “What-?”

“Consider this a peace offering, Dean-o,” Gabriel says with a wink. Dean frowns at him as Castiel tries to pull Dean to his feet.

“C’mon, we’ve got to get going. Gabriel is going to zap us-”

“Cas, I can’t,” Dean cuts him off, tugging his arm away, “I can’t leave.”

“Dean, we have to get you out of here,” Castiel’s mutters, kneeling in front of him. “She is going to kill you if we don’t.”

“I am aware,” he says firmly, “but if I do not comply with Emma, she will go after you.” Dean lets his head hang dejectedly.   
“Then we better hurry before she gets back,” Castiel answers hastily.

“She would find us, anywhere we are,” Dean speaks with authority. “And she would come after us the same as before.” Dean’s eyes are sorrowful and stubborn in his fate. Castiel’s heart twists to see such resignation in one so strong.

“I cannot lose you Cas,” Dean says, voice soft. “I cannot have your blood on my hands.” Castiel sits back on his haunches and stares at Dean in disbelief.

“So you’re the only one with say in this matter?” Dean is surprised by the sudden anger in Castiel’s voice. “You think I want to live without you? After all of this?”

“Dean, I am bound to you. If you think I’m just going to walk away because you tell me, you are sorely mistaken.” Dean’s eyes rise to meet his.

“I love you. I am not giving up on you. I could go on for hours trying to convince you of all of this, but right now we _really_ don’t have time.” Castiel grunts in pain as he rises to his feet and tugs Dean’s arm, “now get moving or I swear-”

The door to the room thunders open. Castiel ducks for cover, instinctually curling toward Dean. Emma stalks in, eyes fiery.

“What do we have here?” Her gaze falls upon Dean and Castiel, “I should’ve known.” Emma holds out her palms in front of her, electricity crackling between her fingers. She snaps her hands to the side and Dean and Castiel go flying to opposite sides of the room, slamming into random furniture.

“Cas!” Dean shouts.

“Ah, ah, ah.” She thrusts a hand out to her right and squeezes her fist, bringing Dean to his knees with a pained noise, “Not this time, Father.” Dean jerks his head up, glowering at her. He fights against her magic, pushing himself to his feet with great effort.

“Enough!” He roars, bringing his foot down with a massive blast of power, cracking the stone floor and knocking Emma off her feet. Castiel hugs the wall, sent off balance by the concussion of Dean’s attack. He scans the room, trying to find Gabriel so that they can zap themselves out of here. Emma bounds to her feet

“Haven’t we already done this?” She sends a bolt of electricity toward Dean but he counters it, breathing a blast of fire. “After all the work I’ve done, I do not plan on stopping now.” Her arms fly out in front of her and she tugs them in opposite directions. Dean’s back arches spastically and he screams out before collapsing. Emma lightly dusts off her hands and turns toward Castiel.

“I blame you, you know?” Her voice remains steady and calm and Castiel finds it unnerving in someone so twisted. “You are thorn in my side, but no more,” a smile curls her lips. She pulls back her shoulder, ready to attack, when Gabriel leaps onto her back and sinks his teeth into her arm.

Emma screams fiercely and launches him off of her. Gabriel hits a bookshelf with a thud, but quickly jumps to his feet.

“Run, Mortal!” he cries out at Castiel.

“Nasty little insect!” Emma hisses. Before Castiel can move, Emma flicks her wrists and a firebolt is aimed at Gabriel. Castiel watches in horror as it hits him. There is a scream and an electric crack, a burst of black smoke and instantly he is gone.

“No!” Castiel yells, running to where Gabriel once stood. An unseen force holds him back, pinning him to the back wall as Emma saunters up to him. Her mask of controlled calm is slipping and he can see frustrated annoyance breaking through.

“I shall put an end to this right now.” She holds her hands inches apart and Castiel can see the energy cracking and twisting between her fingers, readying her attack on him.

“Cas, shut your eyes!” Dean bellows. Castiel looks to where Dean is lying on the floor. He is about to ask what he means, when all at once he sees something bright erupt from Dean’s palm and the world around him explodes in a ball of light.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verse based on [Steffi's](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/tagged/Pagan-Gods-Verse) ([Sillyblue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue)) lovely artwork.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't yet seen it, [Steffi](http://diminuel.tumblr.com) has started a blog devoted entirely to her [Pagan God Verse](http://pagangoddean.tumblr.com/). Check it out! Ask her stuff!

_“Dean!”_

  
Castiel wakes with a start, a scream caught in his throat. His heart thrums wildly in his chest and his eyes snap open. The first thing he is aware of is white; all he can see is white. He’s on his back, lying atop something soft. For a full minute, he thinks he’s dead and maybe this is heaven until he recognizes the painting on the wall above him and realizes that he’s in his bedroom. His _own_ bedroom. In his apartment. In his world.

His mouth is dry and he licks uselessly at his chapped lips. The sheets of his bed are soaked with sweat and the soft gray thermal he’s wearing clings to him uncomfortably.

“Dean?” Castiel calls out as he sits up carefully. He rubs at his side, noticing that the ever-present pain of his broken ribs is gone. He stands and walks into his living room. Everything is just as he left it all those months ago, down to the National Geographic article left open on the coffee table.

“Dean?” Castiel calls out to the empty space, a thread of panic beginning to seep into his brain. Why is he back in his world? This isn’t where he belongs anymore. He needs to be with Dean. He-

There is a sharp knock at the door. Castiel’s brow furrows in confusion but he rushes over to it. The door swings open to reveal Balthazar leaning against the frame, sunglasses perched precariously on his face.

“Balthazar?” Castiel croaks.

“Good morning, Cassie” Balthazar says airily. He passes by Castiel and drops his leather jacket onto his couch. “I just bid adieu to the lovely Miss April and Miss November and was wondering if you would like to grab some breakfast or brunch or something? I don’t really care at this point. Coffee and eggs.” Castiel opens his mouth to answer but no sound comes out. He gapes at Balthazar helplessly.

“Castiel?” Balthazar peers over his glasses and eyes him. “Cassie, are you choking or something?”

“I don’t know where he is.” Castiel mumbles absently.

“Where who is?” Balthazar sighs.

“He has to be here.” Castiel pushes past him and  begins searching through the few rooms and closets of his tiny apartment, loudly opening and closing doors.

“Castiel, what on Earth are you blathering about?” Balthazar asks.

“Dean’s gone.” Castiel huffs, pushing aside hangers full of clothes.

“Who’s Dean?” Balthazar asks, following Castiel into his bedroom. “Cassie, did you have a one night stand or something?” A cheeky smile curls at Balthazar’s mouth.

“No, Dean. Dean!” Castiel emphasizes loudly. “Tall, black eyes, marks on his face, talks like _Beowulf_! Dean!” Castiel scrubs a hand over his face and lets his back fall against the closet door. He exhales shakily. Balthazar casts him a look somewhere between bewilderment and confusion.

“Castiel, repeating a name over and over is not going to make me remember one of your friends with benefits,” Balthazar offers softly. “One whom I have never met, by the way.”

“You _have_ met him,” Castiel blurts out. “He threw you against my wall! We took him to the library at school.” Balthazar’s frown deepens.

“Castiel,” he says, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve been gone for six months!,” Castiel exclaims.

“Cassie, I saw you two days ago,” Balthazar says with a short chuckle. Castiel shakes his head, refusing to believe what he’s heard.

“No, no, I’ve been gone for months,” he insists quietly.

“No, I saw you on Thursday,” Balthazar reiterates, “we had lunch. You wouldn’t shut up about that damn book.” Castiel blinks several times, unable to process this information. What had Dean done to him?

“Balthazar, what’s the date?” He asks, as calmly as he can muster.

“March 6,” Balthazar answers, glancing at his cell phone. It was the day after he’d met Dean for the first time, when he’d brought him home. Castiel pushes past Balthazar and runs toward his kitchen. He stops in the entryway, veins running cold when he sees it.

On the counter, next to the fridge, sits the pie; Castiel’s first offering to Dean, untouched and unopened. Castiel’s eyes burn and he bites back tears.

“No,” he whispers finally. He can hear Balthazar’s footsteps as he follows Castiel back into the main room of the apartment.

“What are you on about?” Balthazar hisses. Castiel grabs at his hair, and paces the the room. It’s then that Castiel notices that he can’t feel the thrum of his tattoo. He hesitantly pulls up the sleeve of his shirt and stares forlornly at his bare forearm.

“No, no, no, no,” he mutters, “We’re bonded. We’re together. Why would he send me away? Why would he send me back?” Castiel begins to gasp painfully and rub at his forearm. He digs his fingers into the soft skin, desperate to feel the active buzz of the bond once more.

“Castiel!” Balthazar barks, tightly grabbing his hands, “you’re going to tear your skin off. What is going on? Is this all because of a one-night stand?”

“It wasn’t a one-night stand” Castiel spits, “he’s an ancient deity. I summoned him and he brought me to his world and…” Castiel trails off as something dawns on him. He walks slowly across the room, ignoring Balthazar’s expression of terrified concern.

If Castiel summoned Dean on accident, surely he could do it again. Months of near constant study had made him partially fluent in the ancient tongue. He could find a way back. Castiel is sure of it.

“Balthazar, did you bring your car?” Castiel rushes out, suddenly inches from his face.

“Yes, but honestly Castiel, you don’t seem well,” Balthazar says, stepping back quickly. “I don’t think you should be going anywhere.” Castiel looks at him with wide blue eyes.

“Please, I need your help. I need to get to the school library right now,” Castiel pleads. “I need to get to that tome. Balthazar, this is literally a matter of life and death.” Balthazar’s face is creased with doubt and Castiel knows he’ll need to pull out the big guns for this one.

“I’ll take over your Monday morning classes for the rest of the semester, plus I’ll let you borrow that grad student who always brings coffee.” Balthazar raises an impressed eyebrow as he considers the offer. Castiel knows he has him.

“Alright, you have a deal,” Balthazar agrees, “but you are going to explain exactly what is going on in that fuzzy little head of yours on the way.”

“Fine,” he says bolting to the door.

“Pants, Castiel!” Balthazar bellows after him.  
  


***

 

Castiel rushes across the campus toward the library, Balthazar trailing behind.

“You know Castiel, it’s 11:30 in the morning. I promise you that the library isn’t closing yet.” Castiel rolls his eyes and keeps walking. He throws open the door to the main lobby and hurries inside. Balthazar squeezes in after him. He comes up to the desk and glances around the small office area, searching for a librarian. He taps the small bell several times, high-pitched ‘dings’ reverberating through the lobby. Balthazar’s hand comes down on top of his, stilling him. Jane emerges from the back area, looking at Castiel quizzically.

“Professor Shurley,” she says warmly, her smile falling when she sees Balthazar, “asshole.”

“Hi, Jane,” Castiel manages a panicked smile.

“What can I help you-?”

“The book. I need the book!” Castiel huffs quickly, not allowing her to finish. Jane gives him a polite smile, nodding and turning to her computer. Castiel taps on the counter anxiously, earning a sidelong glare from Jane, but she doesn’t say a word. It only takes a couple of seconds as she clicks a few buttons and types in something, but Castiel’s patience and nerves are worn thin. Time seems to drag out with every second that he doesn’t have the tome in his hands. Castiel leans over the counter and rubs the heel of his hands into his eyes. He doesn’t want to think about what might happen if he doesn’t get back to the realm in time.

Jane hums seriously and Castiel is pulled from his thoughts, not at all reassured by the pensive look on her face.

“It says here that the book has already moved on,” she says, not taking her eyes off the screen.

“What do you mean ‘moved on?’” Castiel asks, not understanding.

“It’s been sent out to the next library that requested it,” she answers.

“That’s not possible.” Castiel mutters, grasping at his hair, “It was just here.” Jane glances away from her computer and frowns worriedly at him.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t belong to us,” Jane answers, offering a comforting smile. Castiel doesn’t return it.

“I-I need it back,” he stammers, “I need to get the book back. Where is it now?” Castiel’s voice echoes through the small area and other library patrons are now glancing in their direction.

“Alright, just lower your voice please, professor. I’ll see what I can do,” Jane says diplomatically. She turns back to her screen and types a few words in, “let’s see… It says here that it’s in Liechtenstein.”

“Liechtenstein?!” Castiel’s shout echoes through the entire building and both Jane and Balthazar jump at his sudden outburst. “What’s it doing in Liechtenstein?”

“Professor Shurley, I need you to lower your voice,” Jane demands evenly. “That was the next library to request it. We’re on an international share program-”

“I need it back,” Castiel commands lowly, “I need it back now.”

“I’ll get you added back to the list,” Jane says, her polite facade quickly slipping, “but it’s going to be a few-”

“You don’t understand! I need it back now!” Castiel roars, slamming his hand onto the countertop. Fear suddenly fills Jane’s eyes and she steps back.

“Castiel,” Balthazar murmurs into his ear, laying a hand gently on his shoulder. “What is our little rule about inciting the librarians, again?” Castiel shrugs him off, still glaring at Jane.

“Professor,” Jane says seriously, “if you continue to be disruptive, I’m going to have to call campus security.” Castiel’s whole demeanor seems to shatter.

“But… but you don’t understand,” he mumbles shakily, “he’s going to die. He’s gonna… she’s going to kill him and I won’t, won’t be able to…” He trails off,  anxious breaths wrack his body.

“I need to get to him, I need to save him.” Castiel rambles frantically, “he’s in danger, _he’s in fucking danger!_ ” Castiel can’t hear the words bubbling out of his mouth, only the blood rushing past his ears. Thoughts of losing Dean invade his mind unwarranted. Panic sets in and his chest grows tight, breathing abruptly becoming an effort. He can feel something warm and wet on his face and it takes him a few seconds to realize that he’s crying. Something heavy is pressing against his arms and through the white noise he can hear the muffled sound of Balthazar whispering reassuring words in his ear as he’s pulled from the room.

 

***

 

Castiel sits at his kitchen table, staring at the quickly-cooling cup of tea in front of him. He glances up to see Balthazar standing on his small outdoor patio, cell phone pressed to his ear, cigarette perched between two fingers. His conversation is muffled through the glass and he can’t make out what is being talked about.

Castiel lets his head drop into his hands. He’s exhausted, physically mentally and emotionally. Every vein in his body feels like it’s lined in lead, weighing him down exponentially. His head throbs painfully as he tries to come to terms with all that’s happened today. He runs a hand over his bare forearm and frowns sadly.

It was real. It had to be real, right? There was no way Castiel dreamed that; It was too palpable, too painful to be a dream. He can still feel the warmth Dean’s lips on his skin or the comfort he felt wrapped in his arms at night. He can still remember Emma’s claws sinking into his neck and Castiel shivers at the thought.

The patio door slides open and Balthazar steps through, ending his phone conversation. He notices Castiel looking at him and responds with a forlorn smile.

“The University would like you to take a small sabbatical,” he says. Castiel just nods silently. Balthazar releases a heavy sigh and drops down into the chair opposite him.

“Castiel-”

“I’m not crazy,” he interrupts, not meeting Balthazar’s eyes.

“I didn’t say you were,” Balthazar answers after a moment.

“But you’re thinking it.” It doesn’t come out as a question. Castiel raises his eyes to meet Balthazar’s piteous ones.

“You do know how it all looks, don’t you?” Balthazar asks carefully. Castiel does, and he turns away ashamed. “I really think you could do with a holiday, Castiel.”

“I’ve been on vacation for six months,” Castiel hisses through clenched teeth.

“No, you haven’t,” Balthazar says sternly, “you haven’t.” Castiel looks up at him with pleading eyes.

“I just… I don’t want it _not_ to be real,” he mumbles, almost inaudibly. “Everything was just so, so perfect. I learned a language and, I hunted and I… I fell in love.” Castiel’s voice cracks at the last word and Balthazar squeezes his shoulder warmly.

“I know it can feel that way,” he says slowly, “but it was just a dream. A very, very vivid dream, but a dream nonetheless.”

“I’m not Dorothy flying out of Oz!” Castiel pipes up.

“And I’m not saying that you are,” Balthazar insists, “but the mind is capable of doing amazing things, _miraculous_ things, and this is one of them.” Castiel’s expression relaxes in resignation and he sinks into his chair.

“Now,” Balthazar rises from the chair, “I want you to finish your tea and then got to bed. Get some rest. I’ll be by in the morning to check on you.” Castiel snorts in response.

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Balthazar insists. He grabs his jacket off of the couch and says goodbye before dashing out the front door. Castiel picks up the tea cup and walks it to the kitchen, pouring it down the kitchen sink. He stands at the counter, watching the murky brown liquid slip down the drain.

He has to accept that there is no Dean. There is no realm, or Sam, or Emma, or any of that. There’s only Castiel’s extraordinarily overactive, over-worked imagination. Too much work, too much reading, too much living inside his own head and Castiel has finally snapped. The mythologies and stories he studies are just that: stories. Ancient civilizations trying to come to terms with their short, terrible lives. Castiel shuts off the lights and stumbles to his bedroom. He strips off his shirt and throws it across the room where it lands on his dresser. It’s then that something catches his attention. Castiel walks over the the dresser curiously, where a small, glinting object has captured his attention. He picks it up and immediately feels like all the air is pulled from his lungs. A soft laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep within him.

In his hand sits a clear stone, shimmering with life as ribbons of blue and green dance through it. Castiel would recognize the object until his dying day: Dean’s first gift.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verse based on [Steffi's](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/tagged/Pagan-Gods-Verse) ([Sillyblue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue)) lovely artwork.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to send a big thank you to everyone who has been reading, commenting and leaving kudos. You guys keep me going and motivated.
> 
> Also, please visit [Steffi's](http://diminuel.tumblr.com) [Pagan God!Dean blog](http://pagangoddean.tumblr.com/). It's really amazing and expands on her universe. 
> 
> (side note: this story was initially based upon and is heavily inspired by Steffi's art and its universe, although the details differ between them as each develops separately)

“Cassie,” Balthazar calls out as he shuffles into Castiel’s apartment. Shortly after his so-called “freak-out” at the library, Balthazar had taken it upon himself to bogart one of Castiel’s apartment keys. In the two weeks since, He had been texting and stopping by Castiel’s daily, checking up on him and asking if he needed anything. Castiel had argued and fought the attention, saying that he wasn’t a child and didn’t need to be nannied this way. Balthazar had been mostly dismissive of the matter, but to his credit, he had backed off a little to just texting throughout the day.  

“I stopped by that deli you like,” Balthazar says, digging through a paper bag as he walks down the short entryway. “I figured you might want to get out of the-” He stops mid-sentence, dumbstruck by the current state of Castiel’s apartment.

Mountains of books and dusty, yellowed file folders are stacked on the kitchen table. Pieces of paper with various lists, sketches and schematics are taped all over the walls, post it notes stuck to them randomly. Castiel is hunched over his laptop, still in his boxers and a ratty t-shirt. He looks like he hasn’t showered in days and his hair is a greasy mess. His attention is focused solely on the screen as he scrolls down the page, a ballpoint pen perched between his teeth.

Balthazar clears his throat in an attempt to get his attention. Surprised, bloodshot eyes look up at him.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” he mumbles around the pen, spitting it out quickly.

“I gathered,” Balthazar says, glancing around the room. “I see you redecorated.” He points to the papers tacked to his wall.

“It’s just some notes,” Castiel mumbles, glancing back at the computer screen.

“About your… Dream?” Balthazar raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not a dream,” Castiel says coolly, standing and plucking up the stone from where it sits on the table beside him. “I got proof right here.” He holds the stone in front of Balthazar’s face.

“Yes, the marble,” Balthazar says, exasperated with the situation. “You’ve shown me. Castiel-”

“It’s not a marble!” Castiel insists, “look at it, really look at it! It’s alive!” Balthazar glances down at the object being held under his nose. Within it, the lines of blue and green twist and braid within each other, forming and reforming random patterns and shapes.

“It’s a trick of the light,” Balthazar sighs.

“A trick of the-? You’ve got to be kidding! This is solid proof.” Castiel squawks, “I can recall places, people, details!” He gestures to the numerous drawings taped to his wall. “Balthazar, where did this all come from if it’s not real? You know I’m not that creative of a person.” Balthazar sighs heavily, reluctant to agree with Castiel’s statement. Castiel walks away with a growl, tugging at his hair painfully. Balthazar follows after him.

“Castiel, it’s not that I don’t believe you, but-”

“You don’t,” he says flatly. “No one does, I get it. It’s too crazy and unbelievable, especially for people like us,” he gestures with a finger between them, “who think of  gods, goddesses, and mythology in terms of history and literature.” He flops down into his couch with a huff. Balthazar’s shoulders slump and he drops down onto the opposite side. Castiel rubs at his eyes and groans.

“I know nothing I can say can make you believe it’s real,” Castiel says, “but there is absolutely nothing you can say or do that will make me believe it wasn’t. I saw it with my own eyes. I was there.” He lets his head fall into his hands, dejected. Balthazar reaches out and squeezes his shoulder.

“Castiel, if you need me to believe in you, I will,” he offers. “I may not have complete faith in all of this,” he waves a hand at the crowded room, “but I believe you do, and I’ll help you with whatever you need.” Castiel raises his head and smiles at Balthazar, endlessly grateful to have him as a friend.

“What you need now, though,” Balthazar continues, “is a shower and a few hours outside of this space.” Castiel’s smile drops and he sighs stiffly. He doesn’t want to leave. There’s still too much research to be do. He’s made little to no headway in finding information on Dean, or Sam, or Venta Ceaster. Even his search for information regarding the tome is slim. Books from that era are few and far between, and only a handful or historians actually know of their existence. He’s called in favors from friends and contemporaries across the country, but everything he’s been sent (most of which now decorating his small apartment) offers no vital information.

“Come on,” Balthazar says, grabbing Castiel by the wrists and pulling him to his feet. “Into the shower, out of your head and out the door! You’ll eat and then we’ll go to a movie or something.” Castiel grimaces and nods, knowing that voicing his objections will do no good. Balthazar won’t give up until Castiel agrees, so he might as well save his energy. He staggers down the hallway on stiff legs and steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Castiel will admit, the shower does help. When he finally steps out of his bedroom, refreshed and dressed in clean clothes, he notices Balthazar standing in front of one of his walls, staring at a list. He’s frowning, and his craggy face is drawn tight in thought.

“What are you looking at?” Castiel pipes up. Balthazar lifts his head in Castiel’s direction, acknowledging his presence.

“Just reading a list of these names,” Balthazar mumbles. “This one here, Jhonen, it sounds familiar.” Castiel’s eyes grow wide and he crosses the room in two strides to where Balthazar is standing.

“What do you mean ‘familiar’?” Castiel asks, uncomfortably close to him. “Where did you hear it?” Balthazar presses Castiel back from his personal space gently and grabs his bag from the dining table. He retrieves a tablet and, flicking it on, taps at the screen.

“It was in a peer review,” Balthazar explains as he clicks through his web browser. “There’s a theological anthropologist out of Loyola University. She just completed a paper on Celtic sects and I remember reading that name.” Balthazar flinches as Castiel grabs his arm tightly in excitement.

“What did it say?” He asks eagerly.

“Cassie, you’re hurting me, let go.” Balthazar shakes him off and takes another step back, “It didn’t really say anything, more mentioned in passing. But the way she posed it, it was clear she planned to do more research.” Balthazar turns the tablet to face Castiel, the school’s website displayed on the screen as well as a picture of a delicate red-head with a no-nonsense expression.

“Dr. Anna Milton,” Castiel reads, unfamiliar with the name, taking the tablet from Balthazar. It’s only a short article promoting her work, Jhonen’s name isn’t even mentioned, but it’s the closest thing to a lead Castiel has had yet.

“That’s her,” Balthazar says, crossing her arms smugly, “I can fetch the journal from school tomorrow but… Oof!” Castiel thrusts the tablet back to him sharply and scrambles to his laptop, furiously clicking on a screen.

“Castiel, what are you doing?” Balthazar asks.

“Buying a plane ticket,” he answers, “I need to get to Chicago. I have to talk to this woman.”

“What? Why?” Balathazar asks.

“I need to ask her about Jhonen,” Castiel answers.

“Well then it’s too bad that scientist haven’t created a way to communicate with other people remotely, say… the telephone or email.” Balthazar snarks. Castiel stops clicking and turns to his friend, his face solemn.

“I need to see her in person.” he answers. “If she knows who he is, she might have a book or some sort of text and I need to see it.” Castiel turns back to the computer and continues entering his information.

“And what do you expect to happen if you do find it?” Balthazar asks doubtfully. Castiel takes a deep breath.

“Find my way back into the realm,” he admits quietly. He expects some groaning or railing against the idea from his friend, but instead Balthazar just sits down at the table and shakes his head.

“I may regret this later,” he mutters, “but what do you need my help with?” Castiel gives him a grateful look, the corners of his mouth curling up minutely.

“Can I borrow a credit card?” he asks.

 

***

The hallways of Loyola are not entirely different from those at Stanford. There’s the same standard off-white paint and pseudo-modern furniture lining the walls as the smell of floor polish and academia permeates every surface. The biggest difference, Castiel notes, is the cold. In Palo Alto, he’d been able to get by with only a suit jacket. Stepping out of the doors at O’Hare to icy temperatures had been a rude awakening. Castiel rubs at his arms briskly, cursing himself for not bringing anything thicker than his trench coat.

Castiel sits in the lobby of the Theology department idly browsing through a school brochure, when a primly-dressed redhead approaches him.

“Professor Shurely?” She asks. Castiel looks up at her from where he is sitting. Dr. Anna Milton is much lovelier in person, her features not as severe as her photo made them out to be. Castiel rises to his feet and extends his hand.

“Please call me Castiel,” he offers as they shake, “It’s nice to meet you Dr. Milton.”

“Anna is fine,” she says, “nice to meet you too. Please, follow me to my office.” She turns on her heel and walks down the hall, Castiel following close behind.

“I must admit, your correspondence put me a little ill-at-ease,” Anna says, not looking back at him. “I don’t normally receive random, cryptic emails from fellow members of academia.” Castiel huffs a slightly-embarrassed laugh.

“Yes, well,” Castiel stammers for an excuse, “I felt it was better to discuss this in person. The information I’m looking for is a little… hard to explain.” Castiel didn’t tell her that he feared she wouldn’t meet with him if she knew his true motives. They stop in front of an office door and Anna opens it. Inside, the room is a type of organized chaos that Castiel recognizes from his own space. The walls are lined with shelves of books interspersed with posters and sketches. There are two desks set perpendicular to each other, both littered with files and books, barely an empty space between them.

“I apologize for the mess,” Anna says, “my research assistant and I have similar filing systems I’m afraid.” She smiles to herself and she takes a seat behind the larger desk. Castiel moves a handbag off the chair sets it on the floor, before taking a seat.

“Now, Castiel,” Anna says, sitting up straight and folding her hands in front of her, “What is so important that you absolutely had to speak to me in person?” Castiel takes a deep breath and begins.

“What can you tell me about the god Jhonen?” Castiel asks. Anna raises a curious eyebrow, as if to ask “ _Is that all_?”

“Alright,” she says hesitantly. She rises from her seat, scanning the shelf behind her and plucking a book out seemingly at random. She flicks through the pages, finally fully opening the book on one.

“Well, he was god of destruction, war, in some cases death, although that isn’t really agreed upon.” She says, glossing her notes in the margins.

“How much information on him is there?” Castiel asks seriously. Anna grimaces.

“Not a whole lot,” she replies, “he wasn’t heavily worshipped, as you may imagine, except in one village which was said to have kind of… disappeared.” This fact grabs Castiel’s attention.

“Disappeared? You mean like Roanoke-disappeared?” He asks.

“Yes, but even more so,” Anna says with a nod. “We don’t even have a name, any landmarks, hell, there’s not even an agreed upon location?”

“Then how do you know it even exists?” Castiel asks, brows furrowing.

“There’s reference to it in other texts. It’s part of Jhonen’s folklore,” Anna supplies, absently chewing on a fingernail. “It’s said that he destroyed the village himself.” Something clicks into place in Castiel’s head and a sick feeling twists in his gut. He tries to mask his reaction as best he can.

“That’s all I have really,” Anna continues, replacing the book on the shelf. “That’s why I plan on continuing my research into him. I feel like I’m on the verge of a major anthropological breakthrough. Of course, none of this would’ve been possible if I didn’t have Dick in my life.”

“I’m sorry? What?” Castiel says, doing an actual double take.

“Dick, my research assistant,” Anna clarifies. “He’s been completely invaluable in this whole process.”

“Really?” Castiel asks, glancing at the cluttered desk behind him.

“Oh yes,” Anna says. “In truth, my work was at a standstill for months. Then I decide to hire Dick and suddenly It’s like all doors are open; he’s finding these obscure works and similar studies… I’d be lost without him.” Anna offers a smile, and there is something beneath it that Castiel can’t quite place.

“So in your research of Jhonen,” Castiel says, continuing on their previous topic, “did you ever come across any spells?” He bridges the subject carefully, biting at his lip. Anna frowns at him, confused.

“Spells?”

“Yes, like blessing spells or maybe summoning?,” Castiel gestures absently. “Invocations perhaps?” He glances at her, but Anna’s expression is still the same. He opens his mouth to press on further when the office door abruptly bangs open.

“Anna, I’m so sorry I’m late,” a man says, harriedly rushing into the office. “I was on the phone with this university in Prague who… oh, I didn’t realize we had a visitor.” As soon as Castiel meets the man’s eyes, he knows. He may look different, with longer hair, a scruffy beard, and deep brown eyes, but Castiel clearly recognizes that face.

 _Gabriel_.

In an instant he’s out of his chair and slamming Gabriel against the wall, jacket lapels squeezed tightly in his fist.

“Is this some kind of fucking joke to you?!” Castiel yells. “Send me away from the realm? Or maybe this is all just a hallucination?” Gabriel/Dick/Whatever-his-name-is stares at him fearful and wide-eyed.

“I-I don’t… who are you?,” he stutters.

“What the hell are you doing ?” Anna screams behind them. “Leave him alone!”

“Not until he gives me answers!” Castiel growls, not taking his eyes off of a frightened Gabriel. Anna tries to grab at his arm and pull him off, but Castiel easily knocks her way.

“Anna, who the hell is this?” the shorter man asks timidly.

“A lunatic,” Anna mutters, grabbing the phone off of her desk, “I’m calling security.” The logical part of Castiel’s brain finally clicks on.

“Don’t!” he yells, jerking his head toward Anna. He spins back to Gabriel, tightening his grip on him, “tell her.”

“What? I don’t-”

“Tell her!” Castiel barks. “Tell her or, so help me God, if I ever see Dean again I will make him turn you into a rabbit so that I can cook you into a stew myself!” He stares at Castiel seriously for several seconds. Castiel can hear Anna whispering into the phone, no doubt calling campus security. His eyes flick to her and then back to Gabriel. Castiel’s expression breaks for a moment into a pleading one. The smaller man exhales and rolls his eyes. He snaps a finger and all at once the phone in Anna’s hand turns into a toad. Anna screams loudly as the reptile leaps from her grasp and across the tile floor. Gabriel blinks, dark brown eyes instantly flicking to gold. He smiles wide at Castiel, teeth sharp and gleaming.

“Hello, Mortal,” he coos.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verse originally based on [Steffi's](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/tagged/Pagan-Gods-Verse) ([Sillyblue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue)) lovely artwork.


	19. Chapter 19

Castiel waivers between elation and utter rage at seeing Gabriel.

“How are you alive? How _the fuck_ are you alive?” Castiel hisses, still shoving Gabriel up against the wall, “I saw you die!”

“Did you? Did you really?” Gabriel snarks with a tilt of the head, “because I feel very much alive. Anna, do I seem alive to you?” He glances at the redhead who looks bewildered, pressed against the back wall, and completely speechless. “See, she thinks I’m alive.”

“You exploded in a cloud of black smoke,” Cas persists. Gabriel gingerly removes Castiel’s fists from the lapels of his jacket and steps away, dusting himself off.

“Yes, well Emma’s magic isn’t as precise as she’d like,” he offers casually. “I believe she accidentally shot me to a random point in your realm. I ended up waking in in Shangdong Province, China. Lovely place.” Castiel frowns deeply, confused.

“How long have you been here?” He asks quietly.

“Six years,” Gabriel says offhandedly.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel asks, overwhelmed by everything. “I’ve only been back a few weeks. You vanished right before I did.” Gabriel looks at him seriously, frowning.

“When were you sent back to?” Gabriel asks, raising an eyebrow.

“The day I left…” Castiel trails off, the words for the realm left unsaid. Gabriel nods smugly.

“You must have a set entry point into your realm,” he says. “I did not, so I ended up at some arbitrary point.” Gabriel smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. The last time Castiel had seen him, the sprite had seemed playful and aimless. Now, there is something hard about him that Castiel can’t quite put his finger on.

Anna’s expression has dissolved from one of fear to complete confusion.

“I’m so confused right now,” she mumbles, eyes widened and panicked. “I don’t understand. Realms? China? Why was I holding a toad? What happened to your eyes?” Her voices squeaks at the end. Castiel and Gabriel both turn their attention to her.

“Anna, dear,” Gabriel says gently, “I may have not been entirely truthful with you about being… uh, human.”

“Wh-what?” She asks.

“He’s a sprite,” Castiel says flatly. She looks at him like he grew a third head before turning her gaze back to Gabriel.

“Is he one, too?” She asks, nodding her head in Castiel’s direction.

“No, he’s mortal just like yourself,” Gabriel says, smiling widely. “I, on the other hand, have a very long lifespan. Also, magic.”

“Bullshit,” Anna says flatly. “No, no, no, no… you went to Harvard. I’ve seen pictures of your family and friends. This is some sort of trick, because you... you like you tricks and pranks, yeah?” Anna continues to babble, inching toward the doorway. Gabriel raises an eyebrow. Just as Anna reaches the knob, Gabriel snaps his fingers and a lion is standing next to her, roaring loudly in her face. Anna screams and rushes right to Castiel, slamming into him. Another snap and the big cat is gone.

“Is that enough proof?” Gabriel sighs, exasperated. “Also my name isn’t really Dick. Apologies.” Anna stares at him, face changing from abject terror to pure rage.

“I slept with you!” She screams, loud enough so that it echoes down the hall.

“Yes, Anna, and it was very enjoyable, but at this moment, the mortal and I have much to discuss. So,” Gabriel takes her hand and pats it lightly, “I shall see you in a little while. Don’t wait up for me.” He turns and tugs Castiel by the arm out the door.

“Get the hell out of my office!” Anna yells. Something flies past Castiel’s head (a stapler, he notices, once it hits the floor). He turns his head to look back when Gabriel tugs him by the arm again.

“Don’t turn around, keep walking,” he mumbles. “She is quite terrifying when she is angry.”

 

***

 

They walked hurriedly across the campus, Castiel trailing behind Gabriel.

“So why did you come to see Anna?” Gabriel asks, not looking back.

“Uh, I found a paper she’d written. Dean’s father was mentioned.” Castiel answers, huffing. For a short guy, Gabriel is surprisingly quick. He barks a laugh at Castiel’s response, the sound echoing as they enter a parking garage.

“Let me guess? You think you can use him to get back to the realm?” Gabriel says.

“You don’t think so?” Castiel asks. Gabriel stops short and turns to face him.

“I’ve been in this god-forsaken place for six years,” he replies coolly. “I have searched high and low for a doorway back, including trying to summon a god. None have answered me.” Gabriel’s expression is miserable and it is clear how unhappy he is in this place.

“So you’ve tried summoning Jhonen?” Castiel asks.

“Of course I’ve tried summoning him!” He yells exasperatedly. “I’ve used every ounce of magic I still possess. Every book, every rune, every spell I could come up with.”

“Then try someone else.” Castiel offers, feeling like his chances are slipping through his fingers.

“There is no one else. If there is a way there, it will be through Jhonen,” Gabriel hisses, shaking his head. “Destruction crosses all barriers and Sam and Dean are both indisposed. We are cut off until then.” Gabriel turns on his heel and keeps walking through the parking garage.

“So what are we supposed to do now?” Castiel shouts after him. Gabriel looks over his shoulder back at Castiel.

“ _We_ aren’t doing anything. _I_ am getting in my car and going off to find another position under a new name, since you decided to come in and completely blow my cover,” Gabriel spits. “So thank you for that mortal. Well done!” Gabriel keeps walking. Castiel’s shoulders slump. He’s come so far and his last link to the realm is walking away.

“Let me help you then!” Castiel yells, running after him. “Please, I just have have to get back there. He’s in danger.” Gabriel snaps his fingers and there is a click as his car doors unlock.

“How do you expect to do that?” Gabriel asks, looking at Castiel doubtfully. Castiel exhales sharply, his breath puffing white in the cold air. He doesn’t know. He racks his brain and he has no idea how what to do.

“I.. I don’t know.” He mutters, rubbing absently at the phantom pain of his forearm, “I-”

“Your blood bound, aren’t you? You took his blood.” Gabriel asks, his expression softening at the realization.

“I was but,” Castiel pulls up his sleeve, revealing his bare arm. “The mark is gone. Dean sent me away and-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Gabriel says, cutting him off. “You have Dean’s blood, yes?”

“Yeah, but-” Gabriel grabs him by the hand and quickly tugs him back the way they came.

“Come along,” he says, “I may be able to use you.” Castiel trips over his own feet as Gabriel pulls him haphazardly across the campus.

“Where are we going?” Castiel asks.

“The archives,” Gabriel says.

 

***

 

They zip through traffic in Gabriel’s Fiat, Castiel white-knuckling the armrest. When he had started the car, Gabriel had raved about how much he enjoyed driving, but it is clear to Castiel that he was, most likely, self-taught. The backseat of the tiny vehicle is loaded down with numerous archival boxes which Gabriel had “borrowed” from the archival storage space, using the key that the university “gave” him.

“You think you’ll be able to get back to the realm with my help?” Castiel asks through grit teeth as they barely pass a sleek Audi.

“Possibly. I’ve never had a blood-bond to work with before.” Gabriel says, pretending to use a turn signal. “Can’t hurt to try.”

“But the mark is gone,” Castiel reminds him. He’s jerked forward into the seatbelt as Gabriel slams on the brakes and takes a sudden right turn. Castiel feels like the air has been knocked out of them and is about to protest Gabriel’s carelessness, when he slides into a space in front of an industrial-type building.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re blood-bound,” Gabriel says as he unclips his seat belt. “His blood and yours are the same.” He glances up at Castiel with a cheshire cat grin, gold eyes flickers in the fluorescent light.

“You have the blood of a god in you. How does that feel?” Before Castiel can answer, Gabriel flings the door open and exits the car. Castiel scrambles out after him.

Gabriel thrusts boxes into Castiel’s arms with a grunt, loading him up.

“You should be able to handle that, yes?” He asks. There is a tug on his coat sleeve and Gabriel leads him blindly up the curb and through the heavy steel doors.

When Gabriel finally instructs him to set down the boxes, Castiel is taken back by his surroundings. The loft is spacious, but the amount of artifacts and books make it seem otherwise. Castiel has seen lesser collections in Ivy League libraries, and here Gabriel has collected a massive treasure trove of relics in just over half a decade.

“Incredible,” Castiel mutters, dragging a hand over a table covered in rough hewn ancient weapons. “This all has to be worth millions of dollars, and you just have it… sitting around?” Gabriel glances at him, shrugging and nodding. He lugs a box over to a long folding table, throwing the lid off and unpacking the contents.

“Don’t just stand there. Help!” Gabriel orders. “Those boxes over there are my Jhonen pile. Grab one, start sorting through it.” The pile in question was a wall of boxes at least as tall as Castiel.

“This is all stuff on Jhonen?” he asks. Gabriel replies in the affirmative, not lifting his head from the folder of carefully scanned photographs he is examining.

“Anna said she had almost no information on him,” Castiel says as he carefully slides a box from the top.

“She didn’t,” Gabriel mumbles, “but she would’ve once I gave it to her.” Gabriel grins to himself.

“So you were just hoarding this stuff from her?” Castiel says, heaving a box into his arms and dropping it onto the table with a thud.

“I prefer to think of it as job security,” Gabriel says absently.

They search for hours, through the night and into the dawn, breaking only to eat. Castiel’s back aches from being hunched over and his eyes hurt from the lowlight of the loft. He’s desperate for coffee, but the small kitchenette in the corner seems to be exclusively stocked with Red Vines and fun-sized candy bars.

“Look, I know you probably don’t have to sleep,” Castiel says, yawning loudly, “but do you mind if I get a couple hours.” His eyes fall longingly on a dilapidated couch nestled between two other walls of archival boxes. Gabriel takes a vicious bite out of a licorice rope and mumbles something that sounds like an okay. Castiel drops onto the couch, which smells disconcertingly of bleach and corn chips. Within minutes he is unconcious.

 

***

 

“Mortal,” someone is shaking Castiel’s shoulder. “Mortal, get up!” He jerks awake to see Gabriel inches from his face. Castiel’s vision is still blurry from sleep and his mouth tastes dry. His trench coat is tangled around him like a blanket and it takes him a minute to right himself on the couch.

“What’s going on?” He mumbles, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Gabriel’s golden eyes are gleaming eagerly.

“I think I may have found something,” he reveals. In an instant, Castiel is on his feet and rushing toward their make-shift work station. There is a heavy book lying flat on the table, nestled amongst stacks of papers and folders.

“Look right here,” Gabriel says. Castiel approaches the book. There is a symbol drawn in black, what seems to be randomly drawn lines within a circle with various other sigils surrounding it.

“Bring forth destruction for means of rebirth,” Castiel reads the text below it. He looks at Gabriel, “this doesn’t sound like a summoning or an invocation. It sounds like a curse.” 

“Well, Jhonen was never exactly the god of sweetness and light,” he offers, raising an eyebrow.

“So what makes you think that this will summon him here?” Castiel asks. Gabriel grabs Castiel’s head, twisting and angling it down toward the book.

“That right there,” he says, pointing to a line near the bottom of the page.

“The blood of the womb will draw him out,” Castiel reads. “That’s not a lot of instruction,” he looks at Gabriel doubtfully.

“It’s the most we’ve had so far,” he offers with a shrug. “Worth a try.” Castiel stares at him, shoulders slumping. He knows Gabriel is right; hours upon hours of scouring books and documents and this is the first lead they’ve yielded. He yawns and stretches his arms above his head.

“Alright,” Castiel says, “what do I do?”

“Hold out your arm,” Gabriel says. Castiel complies and Gabriel swipes something sharp over his forearm. He hisses as the skin opens and blood begins to flow to the surface of the cut. Gabriel squeezes at his arm, catching the run off in a nearby mug. When he has collected enough, he thrusts a fistful of napkins at Castiel and grabs the book off of the table, careful to keep track of the page. Gabriel rushes off to a bare area of the loft, Castiel following him, trying to staunch the bleeding of his arm.

Gabriel dips his fingers into the mug, covering them with the blood, and proceeds to paint the symbol onto the concrete floor.

“We should have enough if I don’t make it very big,” Gabriel says.

“Hope so,” Castiel mutters, squeezing his stinging forearm. As Gabriel finishes the design, he stands and reviews his work.

“That should do it,” he turns and shoves the book at Castiel. “Now, read the words.”

“Why do I have to do it?” Castiel asks, brow furrowed.

“Your blood, your bond, your Father-in-law,” He punctuates each item with a jab at Castiel’s chest. Castiel rubs at his sternum indignantly, but takes the book and turns to the circle. He begins reciting the whole of the text, not entirely sure which is the summoning and which isn’t. His words ring out clear within the echoing space of the loft. He keeps his eyes on the text, enunciating carefully but every once in a while, he’ll cast his eyes up at the sigil, looking for some sign that a change is happening.

When the last words leave his lips, he raises his head and looks on at the sigil, as empty as it was before.

“It didn’t work,” Castiel murmurs dejectedly. He looks over at Gabriel, who glumly bites at his lip.

“Why was I called for?” A deep voice cuts through the silence. Castiel and Gabriel whip around, eyes wide in surprise.

Before them stands a man. He stands tall, his strong, imposing figure recognizable even beneath his coat of heavy furs. His hair and full beard are dark with wisps of gray weaved through them. Like Sam and Dean, his eyes are dark, but unlike him there is no warm green or hazel center; only blackness. When he turns his gaze toward them, a shiver runs down Castiel’s spine.

“Why was a called for?” the man repeats, more aggressively this time. Castiel stands dumbfounded for a moment before Gabriel clears his throat.

“Say something, Mortal,” he mutters. Castiel takes a step forward.

“Hello Jhonen,” he says, bowing his head reverently. “My name is Castiel… uh, Cas, and your son is in great danger.” Jhonen frowns, brows drawn tight, but there is no anger in his expression.

“Who are you?” he asks, puzzled. Castiel takes a deep breath, at a loss on how to answer.

“I am…” he bites at his lip, “family.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verse originally based on [Steffi's](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/tagged/Pagan-Gods-Verse) ([Sillyblue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue)) lovely artwork.


	20. Chapter 20

“I do not understand,” Jhonen says, dark eyes drawing tight. “What do you know of my son?”

“Your sons. They are Sam and Dean,” Castiel says slowly. “They’re gods, protectors like you… were. They are from the realm of Venta Ceaster-”

“What do know of the realm?” Jhonen's voice curls into a growl that has Castiel standing straighter.

“I, uh, I’ve been there. I was there for a while, actually.” Jhonen cuts Castiel with a sniff, scenting at the air. He gives Castiel a curious look.

“You are mortal,” he says cautiously. Castiel opens and closes his mouth, trying to think of how to respond to that statement.

“Uh, yes, I am,” he replies.

“And alive,” Jhonen adds. “There are no living mortals within the realm,” he takes a step closer to Castiel, causing him to shrink back minutely. “What is the meaning of this?”

“M’lord, if i may interject?” Gabriel says jovially. Jhonen turns away from Castiel and eyes Gabriel.

“Who are you?” He asks lowly.

“Gabriel, M’lord,” he offers with a small bow. “Pleasure.” Jhonen sniffs sharply again and grimaces.

“You are a Sprite!,” he sneers. “I will not have dealing with such lowly creatures.” Gabriel huffs a humorless laugh.

“And there’s the glowing personality I have heard _so_ much about,” he gushes, rolling his eyes.

“Listen here, you mongrel,”Jhonen snarls in Gabriel’s face. “You shall show me due respect or I shall turn you into a pheasant for my evening meal!” Gabriel frowns dramatically and raises his brows to his hairline.

“Well, the apple clearly doesn’t fall far from the tree in this family,” he snipes. “Burnt down any villages lately, hmm?”

“You nasty litt-”

“Alright, enough! The both of you!” Castiel interrupts sharply, turning to Jhonen. “Look, I am a professor at a university… a Learned Man. I found a text and accidentally summoned Dean. We got to know each other a little and he invited me back to the realm. We became closer and, um, bonded. And it was great! Then things just…” Castiel sighs heavily, “Went to Hell. Emma attacked him and-”

“Who is Emma?” Jhonen asks, cutting him off.

“She’s, uh, Dean’s daughter… sir,” Castiel responds. Jhonen’s face abruptly goes ashen and his black eyes widen.

“Dean has a daughter?” he breathes. “Oh no, no, no, this isn’t good. This is very bad.” He runs a large calloused hand through his thick hair, a habit similar to Dean’s, Castiel notes.

“Yeah, the whole situation is bad,” he answers. Jhonen turns on his heel and approaches Castiel.

“No, you don’t understand,” he insists. “In our bloodline, offspring are not a blessing, but rather a curse. A prophecy has clung to to our family line since the beginning of time itself.” He scrubs at his faces and paces the loft mindlessly.

“Yeah, Sam spoke about the prophecy a little,” Castiel offers, “and how it decides who gets the realm.” Jhonen shakes his head.

“It goes deeper than that.” He turns his head violently and grabs Castiel by the shoulders, “you gave him this child? Why would you give him a child?”  

“What? What are you- NO! No, I didn’t give him a child! I’m a guy, for God’s sake!” Castiel wriggles out of Jhonen’s grip. “How is that even possible?” Jhonen straightens and gives Castiel a blank look, shrugging slightly.

“Hmm, there are ways,” he says. Castiel raises an incredulous eyebrow.

“Oh yes, there are ways, Mortal,” Gabriel adds, nodding furiously. “Didn’t Dean tell you that?”

“No!” Castiel gawks. He shakes his head quickly, trying to get back on track. “Whatever, it’s just very important that we get back there. Sam said that she would kill him at the next full moon, but times’ all screwy and I just need to get back there as soon as possible.” His voice cracks at the end as he stares desperately at Jhonen. The large man watches him cautiously.

“You are bonded to him?” he asks. Castiel nods, “Where is you mark?” Castiel cringes. He knew this was coming; proof of what he was saying. He rubs at his arm before pulling at the sleeve of his dress shirt, uncovering his forearm.

“There was one there, but…” he stammers, trying to explain himself, “Emma was trying to attack me and Dean did… something and it shot me back to my realm. I woke up and it was gone.” Jhonen places a hand gently on Castiel’s arm and lightly rubs a thumb over the area where the mark once was. His expression is indecipherable.

“It is not gone,” he says flatly, “It is hidden from your eyes.” He places a palm over Castiel’s arm and a warm light glows from it momentarily. He draws his hand away, revealing the mark, complete with Emma’s scars. Castiel feels like an iron weight has been lifted off  of his heart and he could burst out crying at the relief.

“What are those?” Jhonen asks, pointing to the black scars littering the mark.

“Emma,” Castiel offers as an explanation. “She was using me to get to Dean through the bond.” Jhonen nods, understanding.

“She is clever,” Jhonen comments.

“She is going to kill him,” Castiel adds, “and we need to get back to the realm to stop her.” He looks at Jhonen pleadingly, but his dark eyes remain fixed on the floor though. They stand there in the silence of the loft as seconds tick by.

“I am sorry,” Jhonen finally says after a time, “I cannot return there.” He turns away and begins walking back to the sigil on the floor. Castiel stands there dumbstruck for a moment before a sharp spike of anger runs through him.

“So that’s it?!” he yells after Jhonen. “You’re just going to leave your son to die at the hands of a psychopath?!” Johnen stops in his tracks and once again turns to face Castiel.

“You do not understand the intricacies of our world, mortal,” Jhonen says darkly. “I told you: I cannot return.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Castiel hisses. “From what I see, it sounds like you can’t be bothered to make an effort.” Jhonen’s expression darkens further.

“There are things at work here that go far beyond what you can comprehend,” Jhonen growls. “Do not think that just because you have spread your legs for a god, you should be privy to the details of our world.” Jhonen’s words seem to hit him physically and he takes a step back before composing himself.

“I have been treated like nothing but an _equal_  by Dean,” he clarifies, “and Sam. I have been given complete access to the vaunted history you speak of, so this high and mighty act isn’t going to fly with me, especially from a man who abandoned his children.” Rage fills Jhonen’s expression. He slowly steps into Castiel’s space. Castiel fears that he may have taken things too far, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. He stands to his full height as Jhonen glares at him.

“The last time a mortal spoke to me this way, I struck an entire village out of existence.” Jhonen’s voice is steady, but anger hums through it. Castiel’s gaze doesn’t waiver.

“Well I’m not just some mortal,” he hisses, mouth curling at the corners smugly as he lifts up his forearm. “I’m your fucking son-in-law. I wear the mark of your family. Your blood runs in me and what I am asking from you is to act like the god you are and _get your shit together_!” Jhonen is taken aback by Castiel’s exclamation. He glares at him severely before speaking again.

“Mortal, while I am not pleased by your words, I do respect your intentions.” His voice is gravelly and soft and Castiel doesn’t let his gaze falter from the stare down. “I will admit that there... there is a certain level of fear in returning to Venta Ceaster. But you are correct; I must take a stand in this matter.” Jhonen turns once more and walks toward the sigil. “Come, we shall return then.” Castiel stands dumbstruck before laughing in relief.

“Seriously? You’ll bring us back?” He asks as he follows Jhonen.

“Yes, I shall,” Jhonen extends a hand toward him. “Now, we must depart.” Before Castiel reaches for his hand, he stops.

“Wait. We need to bring him, too,” he says, jerking his thumb back toward Gabriel. Jhonen peers around his shoulder and eyes him with a perplexed expression. Gabriel wiggles his fingers in his direction.

“The sprite?!” he spits out, glancing between the two of them.

“He saved my life once and he’s the entire reason I found you,” Castiel says. “He’s coming with.” Gabriel scampers over to them, grabbing Castiel around the shoulders in a tight hug.

“Oooo, I knew I liked you for a reason, Mortal,” he gushes. Jhonen gives him a skeptical look as he grips him by the forearm.

“You keep very strange company for a mortal,” he mutters. Castiel snorts ruefully.

“Understatement,” he replies as the familiar white light surrounds them.

 

***

 

As soon as he feels solid ground beneath him, Castiel staggers two feet before falling to his knees and vomiting.

“Traveling between realms can be unnerving,” Jhonen offers as some sort of comfort.

“I’m aware,” Castiel groans as he spits out the taste of bile and gets to his feet. They are in the forest of the realm and the fragrance of the flora around him tickles at Castiel’s nose. He breathes in deeply, taking in the comforting scent before turning back to the others.

Jhonen stands stock-still, seemingly overwhelmed by his surroundings. Castiel has only been gone a few weeks and being back here feels like falling into a warm, familiar bed. He can’t imagine what Jhonen must be feeling after being gone for thousands of years.

“It hasn’t changed,” he whispers softly, his mind clearly lost in memories from long ago. Castiel wants to ask if he’s ok, but Gabriel pops up besides him unexpectedly, nose twitching.

“There’s something off,” he says, sniffing at the air. “There are fires burning in the west.” Castiel wills himself not to think what fires could mean for them or for Dean.

“Sam is on the south edge, with Ellyn and Hobb,” Castiel says, noticing Jhonen’s head perking up at the sound of Ellyn’s name. “It must be Emma then. Gabriel, do you know our location?” Gabriel scans the area, eyes squinting and biting at his lip in concentration.

“Southeast corner,” he offers with a tentative shrug. “It has been a long time, but I do believe that is where we are... Yes, yes I do.” Castiel brushes a hand through his hair.

“We can’t be that far from Sam and the others,” he suggests. He glances at Gabriel “Do you think you can lead us to the southern edge?” Gabriel nods once and Castiel gestures for him to lead the way.

They trek through the forest silently, save for the soft trill of the animals around them. Gabriel begins to shed his clothes as he walks, first losing his jacket, then shirt, until he’s down to nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. He sighs in relief, rolling his shoulders back comfortably, clearly back in his element.

“So tell me, mort- I mean, Cas,” Jhonen says, coming up along Castiel as they side step twisted roots. “I am not clear on how you ended up back in the mortal world from here.” Castiel grimaces and takes a deep breath.

“Emma got the jump on us and took us captive,” he begins. “She held Sam, Jessa… that’s, uh, Sam’s bonded, in the dungeon of the fortress.”

“Where was Dean?” He asks.

“In another part of the Fortress. With Emma,” he says. “I don’t know if she was keeping us from him as leverage against him or us.” He tries to ignore the pained look in Jhonen’s eyes.

“How did you escape?” he asks.

“Gabriel found us,” Castiel replies, pointing to the sprite leading the way. “He helped me search the fortress for Dean and then rushed Emma when she was going to attack me.” Jhonen looks surprised and glances between Castiel and Gabriel.

“That was after he managed to get Sam and Jessa out of there and to safety.” Castiel continues, “Saved their lives.” Jhonen’s expression softens and he takes a few strides ahead to catch up to Gabriel.

“Sprite,” he says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I owe you a debt of gratitude for what you have done. If not for you, my family-” Gabriel smirks warmly and waves a hand dismissively.

“Think nothing of it, m’lord,” he says. “Sam is dear to me as is Dean, although I loathe to admit it at times. I know they would’ve done the same if the situation were reversed.” Jhonen smiles warmly, the corners of his dark eyes set deep with crinkles, but his face quickly falls a second later.

“Down!” he yells. All three men duck as an sudden arrow zings through the air, embedding itself in a nearby tree. Jhonen stands first, expression heated, followed by Castiel with his hands up.

“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” He shouts, head ducked below his shoulders.

“Cas?” A voice calls out from somewhere unseen. Sam emerges from between the trees. He stands dumbstruck for a minute before throwing down his bow and charging in their direction.

“Sam!” Castiel gasps in relief, walking to meet him. “Oh my god! It is so good to see you. You would not believe the-” Castiel doesn’t finish his thought as Sam’s fist connects with his jaw, sending him flying to the ground.

“Where have you been?” he bellows. “There has been no sign of you for weeks and then you show up without warning wandering through the realm?” Castiel holds his face, gasping in pain, and looks up at Sam. His eyes blaze with fury.

“Dean is still Emma’s captive!” He barks sharply. “You gave your word you’d get him out! _You gave your word_!” He reaches down and grips Castiel by the collar. “How do I know this isn’t one of Emma’s tricks?” He moves to attack Castiel once more, but Gabriel is at his side holding his arm back. Castiel opens his mouth, ready to respond to his accusations.

“Leave him be!” Jhonen’s deep voice rings out around them. Sam raises his gaze and his grip on Castiel loosens. His eyes widen at the sight before him. Jhonen stands tall and impressive, and Castiel can see the resemblance between him and his youngest child.

“Father?” Sam breathes before immediately dropping down to a knee in respect.

“Sam,” Jhonen whispers as he approaches him, placing a hand softly on the top of his head. Sam looks up at his father, dark eyes watery, before being pulled into a tight embrace.

When they separate, Jhonen’s face is flushed with pride.

“Look at you,” he says, chuckling lightly. “You look well, you’ve… grown.” He squeezes Sam’s shoulder and hugs him tightly once more.

“You have returned? You are back?” His voice is filled with disbelief. Sam pulls back and looks at his father and Castiel questioningly.

“I tried getting Dean out and Emma attacked me,” Castiel explains with a heavy sigh. “He sent me away, back to my realm. Your father,” he gestures to Jhonen, “brought us back.” Sam glances between the them before turning back toward Castiel.

“We feared you dead,” Sam admits, looking down at his hands sadly.

“I’m not,” Castiel says with a smile. “But like you said, we’re running out of time and we need to get Dean.” Sam nods and looks to his father.

“We have your assistance?” he asks hesitantly, to which Jhonen nods. Sam stumbles as Gabriel hops onto his back.

“Miss me, Sam?” He asks gleefully. Sam laughs and reaches around to scratch at the back of Gabriel’s head affectionately.

They walk through the forest with Sam in the lead, Gabriel still latched to his back. He talks as they make their way, explaining how they’ve been working toward a rescue.

“Hobb thinks the best course of action is some sort of binding spell to hold back Emma’s army.” Sam offers, “ It will be far less arduous to fight her alone, rather than a mass of dark souls.”

“That’s if we can fight her magic,” Castiel counters.

“Ellyn has been trying to find a mixture of herbs and spells to use,” he offers. “She says there might be a concoction to temporarily dull her power. At that point, I can defeat her.”

“How did this Emma come to be?” Jhonen asks. Castiel and Sam both look at each other, before he gestures to Sam to explain.

“She was born of battle,” Sam says. “Dean’s blood and the blood of his enemy.” Jhonen frowns and looks at Sam wearily.

“Her power is not to be underestimated then,” he says. “Ellyn has quite a task ahead of her.” They continue to walk in silence until they come to a small cottage beneath a large oak tree. As their party approaches, Castiel sees Jessa’s blonde head poke out of the doorway followed by the rest of her, bounding across the grass as fast as her pregnant body will allow. Ellyn hurries after her, warning her to take care in her state

They both stop short when they notice Sam’s companions. Jessa’s eyes light up when she sees Castiel, whom she immediately flings her arms around.

“You’re alive!” She whispers into his hair, voice shaking minutely. Castiel rubs at her back in comfort, softly reassuring her.

“What became of you?” She asks as she pulls away, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Castiel shakes his head.

“I’ll explain later,” he murmurs. He glances to his left, drawing her attention to where Jhonen is standing. Sam nudges Gabriel off of his back and comes up to here, slipping an arm around her waist lovingly.

“Father, this is Jessa. My Bonded.” Jhonen regards her warmly, smiling as she bobs her head in his direction.

“You are with child,” he notes.

“I am, m’lord.” She answers, hand instinctively going to her belly. Jhonen looks back at Sam and a wide grin spreads across his face. He looks as if he’s about to say something when Ellyn steps forward. Her face is pallid, as if seeing a ghost. Jhonen watches her take another careful step in his direction.

“M’lord,” she bows reverently, her voice barely above a whisper. Jhonen reaches out and cups a hand to her cheek. She leans into the comforting touch and closes her eyes, her expression one of relief and anguish.

“You have done well, my child,” Jhonen says, stepping easily into his former role as a protector. “Thank you for watching over my sons.” Ellyn opens her eyes and gives him a pained smile.

“I wish the circumstances of your return were happier,” she says. She pulls back and straightens up before approaching Castiel, gathering him into a hug.

“It is of great comfort to see you again, Cas,” she glances down at the scarred bonding mark on his arm. “Can you feel him?” her voice is earnest. Castiel notices that the thrum of the bond has returned, although not at the strength it once was.

“I can,” he says, breathing a sigh of relief, “Dean is alive.” His hopeful expression soon falls as he sees Sam’s worried one.

“We only have a short while until the full moon,” Sam says. “We need to get to him before then.”

“A child born of blood is a dangerous beast,” Jhonen warns.

“So are you, m’lord,” Ellyn adds, cocking an eyebrow. Jhonen glances at her, the corner of his mouth quirking up in response.

“Do we have a plan?” Castiel asks.

“We do,” Ellyn assures with a nod.

“You’ll need something more than smoke and mirrors,” Jhonen says brusquely, taking the lead. “Come, there is much to discuss.” He walks toward the cottage, Sam and Ellyn dutifully following. Jessa sidles up to Castiel, placing a hand on his arm.

“That is Sam and Dean’s father?” she asks. Castiel nods, “There is something I do not trust about him.” Castiel glances at her, about to ask why, when he realizes that he feels the same way.

“Yeah, me too.” He says as they walk toward the house, Gabriel scampering after them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verse based on [Steffi's](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/tagged/Pagan-Gods-Verse) ([Sillyblue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue)) lovely artwork.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note of the change in tags. CW for minor character death (canonical) and brief blood/gore.

Dean does not know if he has been asleep for hours or days. The nights bleed into the days as consciousness wavers. Not that it would matter; his eyes remain covered.

He knows he is within the fortress. Though faint, he can hear the sounds of the forest. Perhaps he is in the inner courtyard. He is set on his knees, hands hooked above his head. Blood is caked down his arms from where the fetters cut into his wrists and the sigils carved into the iron sear his skin. The pain doesn’t matter, though. Nothing matters but that they are safe: Sam, Jessa, Cas…

His heart twists and he releases a small whimper. He trusts Cas is safe. He had expended all of his power to send him away to his own realm, collapsing at Emma’s feet once the air had cleared. He had not even the ability to scream when she had taken hold of him.

A tear slips from Dean’s eye unbidden. His life may soon cease, but he was happy once. It had been so brief, a blink of the eye, and yet Dean can recall every moment in which he had Cas by his side.

A hand caresses through his hair and for a moment Dean believes it may be Cas, until the sharp claws of Emma lightly graze against his scalp.

“You shall be alright, Father,” her voice almost taking on a comforting tone. “It shall be over soon.” The blindfold is removed from his eyes to reveal Emma, haughty and victorious. Dean exhales heavily, his chest tightening in anger at the sight. Emma grooms stray strands of hair off of his bloodied and bruised face. He attempts to voice his annoyance, but his words are cut off by the collar tightening around his neck.

“I do not mean to hurt you, you know?” Emma says softly. Dean tries to lift his head up, hoping she may see his look of disgust. “Not really, anyway.” Emma kneels down on the ground before him, looking him in the eye.

“Please believe me,” she says, quite solemnly. “This would not have been my first course of action. The realm is all I care for, really, but the prophecy is explicit in its detail.” She reaches out a hand and brushes some filth away from Dean’s face.

“You would have done the same in my situation,” she adds. Dean struggles to compose himself and opens his mouth.

“Would… never,” he breathes. Emma tilts her head and considers him.

“Yes, you would have,” she disagrees calmly, “but the decision was made for you, wasn’t it?” She hums in amusement and Dean can feel anger like bile rising within him. He pulls at his wrists fiercely. Emma reaches out and roughly grabs him by the hair, pulling his head back.

“Ah, ah, ah, enough of that,” she scolds. “You shall behave, yes? Or else I go after the rest of them.” Her expression turns from affable to stony, “and you would do anything to prevent that.” She flings his head back and walks away, leaving Dean alone once more.

 

***

 

They wait at the edge of the forest, where the trees meet the clearing of Fortress’ land. Jhonen stands at the lead, flanked by Ellyn and Hobb, while Sam and Castiel bring up the rear. Castiel swallows hard, adjusting the leather bandolier draped over his shoulders. He can feel the sigils carved into the leather and hopes that they will serve as much protection as Sam assures they will.

Jhonen gazes down onto clearing where Emma’s army mills about. In the coming twilight, their hulking forms seem larger and their dark features are even more hidden. He sighs heavily and rubs a hand over his beard.

“There looks to be almost 200 of them,” Jhonen says absently. He turns to Hobb, a rucksack full of bound bundles of twigs and herbs thrown across his back. “Shall we have enough?”

“Aye,” Hobb says, shouldering the bag. “We may not have much time, but we should be able move past them.” Jhonen nods grimly.

“As soon as as the last binding is dispatched, I want you to retreat to the cottage before they notice either of you.” he glances at Ellyn, who looks concerned. “My child, I will not fight you on this matter.”

“But we could be of use!” Ellyn argues. “A distraction or-”

“No!” Jhonen snaps, “I will not see you harmed on my account. Not again.” Ellyn backs down, but it is clear she still disagrees. Jhonen turns to Sam and Castiel.

“He will be within the walls, yet somewhere where the moon can be shone,” he says.

“The inner courtyard,” Sam offers.

“Most likely,” Jhonen says. “Enter from the side, through a window. Emma will no doubt be guarding the doors.” He turns to Castiel and looks at him seriously.

“Are you resolute in taking part in this, Cas?” Jhonen asks. When the plan had been concocted, both Jhonen and Sam had made a push for him to wait at the cottage with Jessa and Gabriel. Castiel was having none of it, giving them a dressing-down that had left both of them more than a little red-faced. It had been decided that Castiel would be the one to enact the hindering spell against Emma, since its effects might harm Sam and Jhonen if they were too close.

“You couldn’t stop me if you tried,” Castiel stated with a shake of his head. Jhonen nodded, perhaps not as confident in Castiel as he was in himself, but accepting of the mortal’s choices.

“I shall light the bindings and follow after you,” Jhonen says. Hobb drops the rucksack to the ground and opens the flap. Jhonen and Sam both grab a bundle, laying it flat in their palms. They know they won’t have much time, as the firelight will signal their presence.

“On three,” Jhonen says. “One, two, three!” Fire bursts from their palms, igniting the bundles. Both gods pull back and launch them into the crowd. As soon as they hit the ground, a plume of gray smoke explodes around them. Castiel goes to covers his ears from the wretched screaming of the souls while Sam is quickly pulling him toward the clearing.

Castiel follows automatically, drafting behind Sam. He side-steps as dark souls lumber towards them and ducks as Sam swipes with his blade, blocking the attack. The screams and howls of the souls are deafening and Castiel has to grit his teeth to keep from turning around to see the havoc behind them.

Sam grabs Castiel by the shirt as he blocks more stumbling bodies and leads the way to the side of the structure.

“Cas!” He shouts out over the din. He gives Castiel a leg-up into a lower window, then hauls his own lanky body through it. As he rights himself, Castiel sees they are in a lower hallway, off of the great room. Sam jerks his head to the side and Castiel follows him through the building.

 

***

 

There is muted howling all around him. At first, Dean believes he is dreaming, as he slowly wakes, but the screams grow louder and the heavy sound of footfalls echo through the fortress. There is a soft hum beneath the skin where his family mark lies, but he knows that is impossible; Cas is a world away and only his presence would bring the bond to life.

In the dim torchlight, Dean sees two figures enter the courtyard. They are speaking and Dean thinks he hears his name. He tenses, bracing himself for an attack by Emma’s minions when a soft palm brushes against his face.

Dean lifts his head and pears up through bruised eyes as his vision focuses.

“Cas?” he murmurs.

 

***

  
  


He and Sam move instinctively through the structure, keeping alert for any of Emma’s army. As they come up on the inner courtyard, Sam stops abruptly, Castiel crashing into his back.

“Cas,” Sam breathes, “look!” Castiel peers around Sam to see where he’s pointing. Dean is in the inner courtyard, arms strung up above him and head flopped forward listlessly.

They take cautious steps into the courtyard. Sam’s eyes dart from side to side and Castiel tentatively approaches Dean. His eyes burn with tears and he falls on his knees in front him.

“Dean,” he whispers, reaching out and touching his face, “oh, Dean.”  Dean raises his head at his name, his face a swollen, bloodied mess.

“Cas?” he croaks. Instinctively, Castiel throws his arms around Dean, wincing apologetically when he gasps in pain. He pulls back and examines the cuffs. 

“Sam!” He hisses, “they’re warded.” Sam hurries over to them, taking the cuffs in his hands. He begins reciting a spell, stammering nervously over the words, repeating them until there is a soft click and the restraints loosen. Dean falls forward into Castiel’s arms.

“Cas,” Dean gasps, dissolving into a coughing fit. “Cas, how are you here?” He cups Cas’ face in his hands, brushing a thumb over his cheek. Castiel brings his hand up to cover Dean’s. He’s about to speak, when Emma’s voice thunders through the fortress.

“Samael!” She bellows as she storms into the clearing. She raises her arms, magic crackling between her hands.

“Cas! Now!” Sam shouts. Cas pulls out a small leather pouch off from around his neck and recites a short spell. He thrusts it in Emma’s direction, the bundle exploding in a flash of light on impact. Emma is flung back against the wall before dropping to the ground with a thud.

“We must go!” Sam orders. They drag Dean to his feet and head toward the back entrance of the courtyard. Emma groans weakly and Castiel can see her attempting to use her magic, her fingers fitfully clenching around flickering sparks. The spell isn’t working.

“It’s not holding!” Castiel mutters. They pick up their pace. As the reach the doorway, Castiel feels a tug and the three are instantly being pulled backward.

“Was this your idea, Samael?” Emma growls. “Surely, it wasn’t the mortal’s. This is far beyond him. You really-” She is cut off as a rush of wind fills the clearing. Emma’s face twists in confusion and she turns toward the doorway. A blast of power hurtles through it and sweeps her off her feet. She lands hard on the stone floor, furious red eyes becoming awestruck as Jhonen enters the courtyard.

“Well, what do we have here?” She asks sweetly, her mouth curling into a coy smile. “The family. All together again.” She shoots a sardonic grin at Dean, whose own expression fades from disbelief to hurt to anger and back again.

“Father?” he utters. Jhonen looks up and offers Dean a sad smile. He opens his mouth to speak, when Emma cuts him off.

“After so long, you have just… returned?” Emma asks accusingly, “Without warning? Without reason?”

“I returned to aid my children,” Jhonen bellows in response, “and to defeat the monsters that have invaded the realm.”

“Monster?!” Emma replies with a sarcastic giggle, “you believe me to be a monster?”

“A child born of war-”

“Is still a child of the realm,” Emma finishes, glaring at Jhonen. She lifts her hand, flicking her wrist and tending a twisting thread of magic in Jhonen’s direction. He brushes his hands out, shooing her attack away like smoke.

“Do you really think I would scare so easily at your silly parlor tricks?” He sneers. They circle around each other. Castiel, Sam and Dean take advantage of the distraction and quickly unbind from the magic, getting to their feet.

“I think _nothing_ of you,” Emma antagonizes. “You are a _ghost_! How long has it been since you have been within the realm? A milenia? Two? You come here, all power and bravado, but we all know who you _really_ are.” Jhonen stiffens minutely at her words. Emma takes a step toward him, hands ready at her side.

“Do you really believe I would cower from a failed protector?” she scoffs, “One who ran rather than stood tall?” Jhonen’s face darkens and his hand reaches for the dagger stuck at his belt.

“He ran to protect us!” Dean shouts out. Emma jerks her head in Dean’s direction.

“Is that what you believe?” her voice drips with pity. “You believe your father ran for _your_ protection? Samael, what lies have you been supplying him?” Sam swallows hard and Dean’s mouth drops open in confusion. Jhonen removes the blade which Emma easily knocks from his hand with a snap of her fingers. She shoots him a smug glare before turning her attention back to Dean.

“The prophecy did not begin with me. You are a pawn in it as well,” Emma explains slowly with a coldly-sweet smile. “We are destined to spill the blood of our sires. This… Craven,” she glares at Jhonen,“ effectively died when he ran in fear for his own life.” Dean’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. Castiel looks toward Sam, and it only takes one glance at his pinched expression to know that what she says is true.

“No, no, our father saved us,” Dean says harshly. “We were burning alive and he tore us from the fire.”

“But who do you think incited the village?” Emma accuses. Dean’s face goes ashen and Sam’s eyes widen. They look toward their father with a mixture of sorrow, anger and betrayal.

“It’s not true!” Jhonen disputes. “I would never have done anything to hurt you boys. Or your mother.” His dark eyes plead with his sons.

“But it is true that you ran?” Dean says harshly. Jhonen’s eyes cast downward, and a frustrated growl rips from Dean’s throat.

“You feared me?” Dean’s voice breaks in pain. “I was but a child! Sam only an infant! Did you believe us a threat?”

“Dean, this is not-” Jhonen holds up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Did a prophecy matter more than your children?” Dean bellows accusingly. Emma sighs heavily and looks toward the sky. The moon above shine brightly, but is not yet at fullness.

“I cannot wait any longer!” She throws out her hands, sending the others flying to the walls with heavy thumps. Dean watches with wary eyes as Emma walks steadily toward him. She hesitates for a moment, wavering in her steps.

“I… I am doing what must be done,” Emma says, a regretful tinge to her words. Her crimson eyes begin to darken and thick tendrils of black smoke curls off of her fingers, winding their way around Dean.

“Dean!” Castiel howls. Dean screams out in pain as the bands of smoke tighten around him. Castiel doubles over clutching at his arm, feeling like his blood is boiling in his veins.

“No!” Jhonen growls. He rushes forward, planting himself between Emma and Dean, taking hold of the smoke. Emma is caught off-guard as he winds it around his arms, sharply tugging at it and pulling her forward. As soon as she is within arm’s reach, Jhonen places a palm on her head, drawing something out from within her. There is a scream and light bleeds from her eyes. Dean lurches forward as he tries to get to his feet, heading in Castiel’s direction.

Emma’s body jerks when Jhonen pulls the final trails of light from her. He holds the ball of light carefully, and he gives the others a panicked look. Castiel feels hands on him and all at once his face is pressed into Dean’s chest.

“Do not look!” He orders. There is a soft crackle in the air that quickly grows louder. Pressed against Dean, Castiel sees a bright, blinding flash on the edges of his vision, followed by sudden darkness. Dean’s arms tighten around him and he can hear a whimper rise from within his chest. When Castiel raises his head, there is only a dark scar of ash across the stone floor next to Emma’s lifeless body. Sam, Dean and Castiel stare aghast.

“What… What happened?” Castiel finally asks after a silent minute.

“He,” Sam Swallows hard, voice wavering. “He tore her divinity from her.” Castiel gapes and looks to Dean, who stares gravely at the center of the courtyard where Emma’s body lays motionless.

“Should we do anything with her?” Castiel asks. Dean shakes his head without looking away. He rises to his feet and pulls Castiel with him.

“Her souls will collect her.” Dean and Sam begin to move toward the doorway, but Castiel remains frozen in the spot. Part of him feels like they must move the body, bury her, out of respect for the dead.

“Cas,” Dean says, interrupting his thoughts, “we must go.” Castiel glances at her once more before he goes to follow the brothers. He takes two steps, when without warning something latches to his back and throws him to the ground.

“You!” Emma snarls, ripping the bandolier from his body with no effort. “This is your fault!” her voice gurgles in her throat. Blood runs from her eyes, dark and hollow. Castiel clutches desperately at his throat as her hand close tighter around it, nails digging into the soft skin. He can here Sam and Dean calling his name and can vaguely make out their shapes as they pull at Emma’s form.

Her grasp doesn’t release though, constricting further. Castiel gasps helplessly as his vision begins to tunnel. His hands weaken and shake, finally giving up and collapsing at his sides. The sounds around him muffle like he’s underwater and he can feel his consciousness slipping from him.

He’s dying. Castiel often thought about the existential aspects of death, but he never thought he’d be conscious of it actually happening to him. After all the work he’s done to return here, to get back to Dean, he’s going to die at the hands of this _bitch_. A wave of anger rips through his mind.

_There is no fucking way he’s going out like this!_

There is an unusual lightness to his body and the hands on him fall away. Light seems to pour in from all corners of the room, flooding Castiel’s vision in white. His entire body vibrates, as if the bonding mark is within his soul rather than his arm. All at once, he is on his feet staring down at the terrified, blood-soaked stare of Emma. Castiel watches, but does not feel, his hands reaching out to grab her around the throat, lifting her off the ground. There are voices around him, but the words seem foreign and confused. There is a beat like wings flapping and a short blast of red light, followed by darkness.

Castiel opens his eyes. The courtyard looks the same as before, except where Emma once stood, there is only scorched ground. Castiel looks down at his hands, flicking dark ashes from his fingers.

“Cas?” That’s Dean’s voice but it doesn’t sound the same. There is a reverberation, and Castiel winces at the sound. He looks up to see Sam and Dean’s stricken faces.

“Cas?” Sam says as he takes an unsure step toward him. “Cas, what have you done?”

“What do you mean?” Castiel startles at the sound of his voice. It’s resonant and seems to fill the space. “What… What has happened?” Dean looks at him, expression awe-struck and almost fearful.

“Dean, what has happened?” Castiel’s voice thunders and both Sam and Dean clutch their ears at the noise. Dean swallows hard and approaches Castiel, swallowing hard.

“Oh, Cas,” his gaze is pained. “Your eyes…” Castiel shakes his head in confusion.

“What are you talking about? What happened to my-” A jolt of pain rips through Castiel and he clutches at his head. His body feels like it’s on fire from the inside and a screech catches in his throat. Castiel can barely hear Dean calling his name as a blazing flash fills his vision and the world around him whites out.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verse based on [Steffi's](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/tagged/Pagan-Gods-Verse) ([Sillyblue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue)) lovely artwork.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The final chapter. 
> 
> Eek!

Dean sits in his chamber, staring into the hearth fire. His mind is a tumultuous sea of emotion: sadness, confusion, anger, and fear all battle within him. There is a soft hum through the fortress as the household returns to life. Voices rise up through the stairwell, preparing for tonight’s proceedings.

The dark souls had dissipated quickly following Emma’s demise. Without their mistress, nothing held them to this realm. The courtyard still smells of cinders and blood and Dean can’t bring himself to go near it. He scrubs a hand down his face, wincing as he passes over the bruises and cuts Emma left in her wake.

Dean’s mind keeps returning to his father; the elation he felt at seeing him after so long followed by the feeling of betrayal, knowing he had fled like a coward from his realm.

Emma’s accusations that Jhonen should be held responsible for their mother’s death were beyond belief, but still Dean could not dismiss it. Jhonen had denied her allegation vehemently, but Dean could not help believing that Emma had far less to lose than he did and deceit held no benefit.

Then there was the matter of Cas. Dean’s heart constricts as he thinks back to Ellyn’s words.

_“His mortality is at war with his newly-born divinity,” she had explained stiffly. She talked about the gods of old and how they came to be through belief, but Dean barely listened._

_“What can be done?” Dean asked sharply. “Can we… draw it out of him? His mortality? As it was done for Sam and I?”_

_“It is not so simple,” Ellyn answered with a sad smile. “Castiel was not the child of a god. His mortality is unwilling to give up on him so easy.”_

_“Will he wake?” Sam asked defeatedly, wincing as Ellyn shook her head._

A knock on the door draws Dean from his thoughts. Ellyn enters before he can respond.

“Dean?” She says softly. Dean rises from his chair and silently turns to face her. “It’s time.” They walk through the darkened corridors toward the great hall, uneasy tension between them. Dean’s eyes are locked facing forward, but Ellyn keeps shooting him furtive glances. Thankfully, she keeps quiet, having made her peace on the matter several days ago when they had sent Cas away.

As Dean enters the hall, Cas’ absence is like a void. In such a short time, he had carved himself into their lives and Dean feels the loss of him like a phantom pain.

_“There is nothing we can do?” Dean asked desperately, tears springing to his eyes. “He will be forever caught in this battle?”. Ellyn glanced at him, her face reluctant._

_“There is one thing,” she answered slowly. “Bury his divinity deep within his mind, clear all memories of this place, and let him live out the rest of his days.”_

_“In his own world,” Sam said, finishing her thought. Dean closed his eyes, sorrow written across his face._

_“And this will save him?” His voice was steady. Ellyn’s expression was unreadable._

_“It is our best chance,” she finally said. Dean glanced over to Cas’s body laid out on their bed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face and the shallow rise of his chest the only signs he was alive._

_“It is what is best for him.” Ellyn added._

“Dean!” Sam starts, rising to his feet and crossing the floor to his brother. He frowns deeply in anger, “Dean, this is madness! Please do not do this!” Dean does not return Sam’s anger, only gazes at him plaintively.

“Sam, I must. Please understand-”

“If he needs protection, he is my charge!” Sam barks, his voice echoing off of the rafters. “As a learned man-”

“He is my bonded!” Dean cuts him off fiercely. Sam relents, taking a step back and pulling a hand over his face.

“He shall return at the end of his mortal life,” Sam pleads. “It shall be the blink of an eye.” Dean averts his gaze and rubs absently at his mark. Sam’s word were true, but it did not change his decision.

“Even a day without him is too long,” Dean admits quietly. “What if it were Jessa?” Sam turns to look at his bonded where she sits before the hearth. Her hand is idly wrapped over her distended stomach and Gabriel is nestled fast asleep against her hip. Sam grimaces and his shoulders fall in resignation.

“As you said,” Dean offers a wan smile. “It shall be the blink of an eye until our return,” Dean pulls his brother close, heads pressed together in comfort. Sam sniffs as he draws away, a tear dropping down his cheek.

“Dean,” Ellyn says. “We are ready.” Dean nods and walks toward where She and Hobb stand.

“You are sure of this?” Ellyn asks, repeating her question for the hundredth time since Dean decided to cross realms.

“I am,” Dean assures.

“And you shall be able to find him?” She raises a suspect brow. Beneath his tunic, the mark hums lowly, telling him Castiel is alive out there.

“I have no doubt,” Dean says.

 

***

 

Castiel sits at his desk, absently scanning through tomorrow’s lesson plans and checking emails when there is a knock at the door. He lifts his head to see Balthazar leaning against the doorframe.

“I came by to say congratulations,” Balthazar says. “I just heard about the grant.” Castiel smiles softly and nods. His department head had been concerned with his idea to do an in-depth study of lost Celtic sects and their mythologies. He had proclaimed it a fool’s errand, but the proposal Castiel had drawn up was impressive enough that even the president of the university had sought him out, letting Castiel know that he had the backing of the entire university in his endeavours.

“Thanks,” Castiel says quietly. “It’s not tenure, but it’s a step in the right direction.”

“I should think so!” Balthazar agrees. “I read the proposal. It’s inspired, Castiel.” He shakes his head as he gathers his lesson plans back into a manila folder.

“I know the upper echelon here are all a-twitter about it,” Balthazar adds.

“They just see good press for the university,” Castiel offers with a shrug, looking at  his friend. He glances at the time and grimaces, suddenly aware of how hungry he is. “Interested in lunch?”

“That is actually why I came down here,” Balthazar  replies. “I figured I’d buy you a celebratory pizza.”

“I’d prefer I celebratory burger,” Castiel says, rising stiffly from his desk. He grimaces and clenches his teeth as he tries to offset the sudden light-headedness, breathing heavily through his nose. He feels a hand on his arm and he glances up at Balthazar’s concerned face once the vertigo passes.

“It’s still happening, then?” he asks.

“Yeah, but it seems to be getting better,” Castiel offers with a nod. “The headaches aren't as bad.” It had been 10 weeks since the accident. Castiel doesn’t remember anything of what happened, relying solely on what the EMTs and doctors told him; he’d been leaving the staff parking lot when somebody swerved around the corner, T-boned his Civic, and then fled. First responders arrived on the scene to Castiel unconscious with blood pouring from his eyes and mouth. The doctors said that it was most likely cranial bleeding from when his head hit the steering wheel and side window, but even they seemed less than sure of their diagnosis.

Castiel had been unconscious for six days, his vitals all over the place. His friends had been told to prepare for the worst, but to everyone’s utter surprise he had woken up on the seventh morning, faculties mostly intact save for no memory of the accident or the few days prior.

Aside from the head, his other injuries had been mild, although Castiel continually brought up the tingling sensation in his forearm. His doctor chalked it up to trauma-induced fibromyalgia and sent Castiel on his way with a prescription for 800 mg Motrin.

Castiel moved around his desk and grabbed his jacket and keys. He and Balthazar stepped out of his office as he locked up.

“So burgers, then?” Balthazar asks. “Coffee-TA mentioned there is a new place a few minutes away.”

“Sound good,” Castiel agrees as they walk down the hallway. “I have such a craving for-” As they turn the corner, Castiel runs face first into a body.

“Whoa, sorry about that,” a rumbling voice says. Castiel looks up to see a gorgeous man smiling back at him apologetically. “Guess I need to watch where I’m going.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel mumbles, nodding absently. He is completely caught off guard by an easy smile and green eyes crinkling at the corners. Balthazar elbows Castiel knowingly, receiving a glare in return.

“Hey, would you fellas be able to help me?” the man asks, digging a folded piece of paper out of the back pocket of his jeans. “I’m trying to find the Anthropology department, and I don’t think this map has been updated since the gold rush.” Castiel opens his mouth to say something when Balthazar cuts in instead.

“It’s a floor up, actually, east wing,” he offers.

“I appreciate that,” the man replies.

“Castiel would be glad to show you,” Balthazar says with a devious grin. Castiel startles as he’s slapped him on the back, frowning and raising an eyebrow at Balthazar.

“Uh, weren’t we headed to lunch?” He asks, not so subtly stamping on his foot. Balthazar grins slyly at his friend.

“Actually, I promised that new librarian Hannah I’d give her a tour of the campus,” he checks his watch deliberately, “and it looks like I’m running late. I’ll see you tomorrow, Castiel.” He squeezes his shoulder and hurries down the hallway.

“Balthazar, not the librarians!” He calls off after him uselessly. Castiel turns back to the man, who is watching him with interest. “Uh, I guess I’ll show you the way then.”

“Well, thank you,” he says, extending an arm out in his direction. “Dean Winchester.” Castiel shakes his hand.

“Castiel Shurley,” he replies. They head toward the stairwell, Castiel trying very hard not to openly stare at the galaxy of freckles on Dean’s face.

“So, you’re…um, new here?” Castiel asks, trying to make conversation. Dean nods, opening the stairwell door for Castiel.

“Yeah, very new. Drove out here overnight,” Dean says. “It’s actually been kind of a whirlwind thing. I was supposed to start in a few months, then I get a call that one of their professors resigned unexpectedly and they wanted me to step in early.”

“Where are you coming from?” Castiel asks.

“Kansas,” Dean answers. “KU.” Castiel nods in understanding as they exit the stairwell. Castiel gestures to the right and leads him down the hall.

“So what department are you with?” Dean asks, casually shoving his hands into his pockets and eyeing Castiel.

“Religious studies,” Castiel answers, “but my focus is world religion and ancient mythologies.”

“That’s interesting,” a smile curls at Dean’s mouth and Castiel finds himself smiling back involuntarily. “Do you ever do any work with the Anthro department?”

“Not really. My work doesn’t really call for a lot of crossover.” If he didn’t know better, Castiel could swear he saw disappointment flicker across Dean’s face, “but I was just awarded a research grant, so I’ll most likely be reaching out to them soon.” Warm green eyes stare back at him and he feels like his heart catches in his throat at the sight. He clenches his fist at his side, the tingling feeling slowly crawling up his arm.

“Um, we’re here,” Castiel says awkwardly. “I think the department head is two doors down.” Castiel points toward an office door.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Dean nervously scratches a hand through his dirty blond hair. “Hey, I know this might be a little pushy of me, but it sounds like you missed lunch with your friend and… I’d love to pick your brain a little about this place, what teaching is like. Do you… feel like grabbing coffee or something?” Dean looks at him hopefully.

“Yeah,” Castiel answers, an unexpected warmth blooming in his chest, “I’d like that I think. There’s a diner off campus we could go to, they have pretty good pie?” Dean’s entire face brightens.

“Sounds good to me,” he replies. “Let’s go, Cas.” They start to walk when Castiel abruptly stops.

“Did you… Did you just call me Cas?” He asks, not sure if he heard him right.

“I think I did. Sorry, I tend to shorten names,” Dean frowns apologetically and holds up a thumb and index fingers a couple inches apart in demonstration.

“No, it’s ok,” Castiel says, shaking his head dismissively. “I actually… I don’t really mind.” Dean smiles at him, and Castiel can feel his own goofy smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“Cool,” Dean says. He grabs Castiel by the sleeve of his jacket “C’mon, pie is calling.” Castiel huffs a laugh and follows Dean down the hallway.

 

 

 

_Art by[Dimiuel](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/), used with permission_

 

**The End**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to send out the sincerest of 'thanks' to everyone who has read, commented, or left kudos for this story. As with most of what I write, what started as a simple idea completely changed into something more and it is only because of your encouragement that I had the nerve to continue after one chapter. This is my longest fic to date and was a labor of love the entire time. 
> 
> Of course a massive thank you to [Diminuel (Steffi)](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/tagged/pagan_gods-verse), for her art as inspiration, as well as thanks to [Veera](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphene/pseuds/morphene) for her beta-ing efforts.
> 
> I'm also on [Tumblr](http://powerfulweak.tumblr.com/) if you have any questions.


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